SixteenbyEight Feet
by Virgo Writer
Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble series.
1. For Richer or Poorer? August 2016

I wanted to write something more humorous for this pairing, which is pretty hard to do without losing so much of their Sasha/Payson-ness. Given the nature of this pairing, nobody ever seems to write a romantic comedy. Sadly, this attempt lacks much in substance and is of the drabble variety. I might try to turn it into a full story but I'm not sure I'd be very good at writing it as I've never been to America so wouldn't know where to start in the slightest.

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI . . . or Airstream.

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Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

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**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Payson exclaimed as she looked at the silver 'luxury' trailer, her face contorted in abject horror. "Please tell me you're kidding, Sasha," she begged, hoping to a god she hardly believed in that this was yet another example of his quirky, British humour.

Sasha shrugged, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "I thought this was what you wanted, love," he responded with a broad smile. "I remember you saying so to the girls."

She hardly stopped to contemplate how he knew what she had said when he wasn't even in the room at the time – she had long ago given up on trying to figure out how Sasha knew the things that he knew – and instead took in the whole image presented, with a painful cringe. The airstream had been given a good clean – which was at least something she could be grateful for – and decorated by her former teammates and best friends with an extravagant 'Just Married' sign and trails of tin cans. She'd probably think it was funny if it was happening to anyone else and could imagine how comical it must look to any passers-by to see the bride and groom standing outside the recreational vehicle being seen off by their family and friends.

Payson glared at her three best friends – Kaylie Cruz, Emily Kmetko-Young, and Lauren Tanner – all wearing matching bridesmaids dresses and grins. She took a deep, calming breath to stop herself from screaming, and gave them a stern warning. "I swear that I will find out which of you told and when I do, I will make you pay for this," she said tersely, staring each of them down. Her instincts and past experience said Lauren, but Emily was looking especially pleased with herself and Kaylie was looking away suspiciously, so it could have been any of the three.

"C'mon, love," Sasha cajoled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, "it'll be fun. An adventure even: three weeks, just the two of us, crossing the country. It'll be great."

Payson gave him a sceptical look as her mother cut in with her support. "Sasha's right, Pay," Kim smiled. "You just need to . . . relax and enjoy." At times like this, Payson wished that her mother and her husband weren't quite such good friends. Now that she thought about it, she kinda suspected her mother had a hand in what was passing for a honeymoon.

"Seriously," she sighed, looking desperately up at Sasha who just continued to beam back at her, "are you completely oblivious to any sort of subtle hint? _Hawaii_, Sasha. _Hawaii_."

He laughed, even though he knew he shouldn't, placing a kiss on her forehead to placate her when she sent him a grumpy look. "I don't remember any subtlety, but no I am not oblivious to your 'hints'," he laughed. "Everyone has a honeymoon in Hawaii, I thought we'd try something different and a bit more you and me. I mean, what on earth would we do in Hawaii for three weeks?"

She blinked at him, surprised he even had to ask that question, but not wanting to answer it while her mother was still in hearing distance. There was really only one thing most honeymooning couples did in Hawaii for three weeks, and in just sixteen-by-eight feet of space and with his new bride not entirely impressed with his creativity, Sasha would be unlikely to emulate them.

"Well, we should go," Sasha told the crowd, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, "we've got a lot of ground to cover." With that said, they made quick work of their goodbyes, Sasha straining a smile at the veiled threat that he received from his father-in-law. Payson similarly strained through some last minute advice from her mother – advice that her mother should have been much more uncomfortable giving, given that it referred to a man she tended to think of as both a son and best friend – advice that was somewhat unnecessary.

"Right," Sasha said, before unexpectedly hoisting his bride into his arms. "Could someone get the passenger door?" he asked as Payson struggled slightly in his arms, a small smile lighting her face despite herself. He gently deposited her the passenger seat of his truck, this standing in for an actual threshold for the time being. With an almost childlike giddiness, he rushed to the other side of the car, waving at the small crowd before joining his wife.

"Ready, love?" he asked before turning the keys, eagerly anticipating her response.

Payson said nothing, instead murmuring lowly under her breath. "Are you alright?" he asked. "What are you doing, Payson?"

She tilted her head towards him, sending an ironic smile as she spoke. "Just reminding myself that I am deeply, deeply in love with you," she began, making him grin prematurely, "and that it is illegal to kill in all fifty states.

"Even Hawaii."

~FIN?~


	2. Namesake December 2018

**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

Several people (specifically **XoXNiLeY2010** and **Ida-cullen**) noted that the Sasha Jr part was missing and that actually inspired two additional drabble pieces that I think can comfortably share this space. So rather than a story, **Sixteen-by-Eight Feet** is going to be a drabble collection for anything I think of that can be connected to Payson's quote no matter how loosely. If you're interested in that, I definitely recommend alerting this story as drabble updates tend to be very sporadic and could happen at any point in the near or distant future depending on whether inspiration strikes.

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

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Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

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**In the Name of the Father**

"No," Payson shot down quickly, not even taking a moment to consider his suggestion.

"Why not?" Sasha protested charmingly. "It's a perfectly good name."

"In Romania," Payson answered tightly. "Not in America, which is where we live and where our son will have to go to school." Her argument was implied – she would not inflict on their child any name that was bound to get him beaten up.

"It won't be that bad," Sasha insisted, unconvinced by the supposed danger. "He'll fit right in with all the Hermiones and Artemises, and whatever those kids from the Twilight books are called."

Payson rolled her eyes, Sasha's argument doing nothing to persuade her. It only made her hold her conviction stronger, given the group of oddly named children that their son would be lumped with by virtue of their mutual decision to give their children traditional Romanian names. She disliked the assumptions that people would make from the name – they were _considering_ naming their son after his great-grandfather, not some fictional horror character.

With a disgruntled cry, she threw her hands up in frustration, wobbling to her feet. She drew her hands to her hips in a gesture that probably would have been intimidating, but for her swollen pregnant belly intruding on the picture. Sasha couldn't help but smile at her adoringly as she tried to chastise him for his poor choice in names.

"Sasha, we are not calling our son 'Dracula'," she told him sternly, narrowing her eyes against his gentle gaze. She suspected he was trying to convince her with his 'come to bed' eyes, but refused to fall for those again given that they resulted in her current predicament.

Sasha shook his head. "Bloody Americans always mispronouncing things," he admonished jokingly.

"It's '_Dracul_'," he insisted, stressing the first syllable instead of the second. He softened the 'c' so it sounded more like the 'g' sound it was intended to have – the sound was closer to 'dragon' by his pronunciation – and the 'u' having more of an 'oo' sound. His Romanian tongue gave it a completely different resonance that almost made it acceptable, but then again, it may have just been her increased libido reacting as it did any time he showed off his impressive knowledge of the Romance languages.

Of course, she did maintain her wits about her despite his cheating use of his native tongue, forging on in her argument. "Firstly, Bram Stoker was Irish, not American, which makes him more your people than mine," she argued defensively. Sasha raised a sceptical eyebrow, but decided not to mention that 'Keeler' was an Irish surname and that her grandfather had spent most of last Thanksgiving telling him about their family back in the 'Emerald Isle'. His people indeed! His mother's family were from Cardiff, which was a different (and much colder) part of Britain altogether.

"Secondly," she continued, oblivious to Sasha's chain of thought, "it doesn't matter how it's supposed to be pronounced because everyone will just call him Dracula and not Dracul." She made a very poor attempt at imitating the way the name had sounded from Sasha's lips, but failed to make it sound even half as appealing. "We'd spend all our time correcting people and everyone would think we were vampire obsessed nutters rather than people with a genuinely good reason for calling our son Dracul." She breathed deeply once she was done after expelling the whole sentence in one breath. Arguing with Sasha could be very tiring.

He nodded, accepting her second argument as reasonable and calmly crossed 'Dracul' off the list of crossed-out names they were slowly developing.

"What about your father's name?" she suggested hopefully.

"Dumitru?" Sasha grimaced, looking uncomfortable with the suggestion. While he was certainly on better terms with his father post-Olympics 2012 than he was post-Olympics 2000, they certainly weren't – and never would be – in a place in their relationship for him to actually consider naming his son Dumitru Belov the Second. The name didn't even make it onto the list in order to be crossed off it.

"Aurel?" Sasha suggested, the rolled 'r' making her shudder pleasantly. "Actually no," he said, changing his mind when he considered the meaning. They were both four-time Olympic gold medallists and most people would think them a tad egotistical giving their son a name that meant golden.

"Catalin?" he tired.

"Girls name," Payson responded. "And you can forget about Carol and Marian too," she added, glancing down at his list of names.

"Dragomir?" he suggested, crossing it out when he saw another grimace cross Payson's face. He suspected it had something to do with the fact that it sounded like some obscure member of the fellowship.

"Why don't we just call him 'Alexandru'?" Sasha suggested with a slight air of frustration. This had been his suggestion from the start – partially to avoid patronymic naming conventions (the '-escu' and '-eanu' that were traditionally attached to the names of your offspring – his own made him Alexandru Dumitrescu Belov), but mostly because he liked the idea of having a little Sasha Junior running around with just the right amount of Payson mixed in for good measure. He really was just a big softie at heart.

"You do _like_ 'Alexandru', don't you, sweetheart?" he wheedled playfully, dragging on a strand of her blonde her in a manner that she could quite rightly deem seductive.

She gave him a painful smile. Of course she liked the name Alexandru – she _loved_ the name Alexandru – but every time Sasha mentioned naming their son Alexandru, she could hear her own scornful words repeating back to her in her mind. She'd already confirmed part one of the prophecy and she'd be damned if she completed the second. The words 'Sasha Junior' taunted painfully in her ears.

Oh, but Sasha looked so hopeful every time he mentioned it. He always said it playfully – just as he did now – as though it was just a joke that expecting fathers were meant to make about their expected sons, but she could tell that there was at least a part of him that seriously wanted to name their son Alexandru and that there was nothing that would please him more than sharing his name with their first born.

"As a middle name," she conceded, feeling guilty at her own reluctance to give him more than that. "We'll have it as a middle name. Not as his first name."

Sasha frowned. Having Alexandru as a middle name was as good as a patronymic, in fact, he might as well just conform to the traditional naming convention and stick with the patronymic he was trying to avoid.

"How about 'Nicolae'?" she suggested in return as a sort of consolation. She had spoken with her husband about his former coach enough that her accent was near perfect when pronouncing the name. She was slowly assimilating the language – not quite enough to speak it fluently, but enough to understand the gist of what people were saying when they spoke Romanian around her. Not that anyone other than Sasha really spoke Romanian around her, and he largely did so when was trying to seduce her, and therefore his meaning was usually obvious, but she knew enough to know that he wasn't simply reciting the Romanian phone book to her when he decided to show his romantic side.

"It could be a homage to the perfect team," she added with a smile. "Nicolae and Alexandru, _din nou impruna_."

"Impreuna," he corrected, returning her smile. She was getting better, and he was sure she'd be fluent by the time their son learnt to talk. And he loved the way she said his name, even though it wasn't quite right – she couldn't quite get her tongue around the rolling 'r' sounds, but he'd much rather hear her butchering it (or so she said) than hear anyone else get it right.

He gave her quick kiss as reward, an incentive to get her speaking Romanian more often. "But why can't it be 'Alexandru Nicolae'?" he asked her as he pulled away, still curious as to why his name was relegated to second place.

"Just cos," she replied, pointedly avoiding his eye. Sasha raised an eyebrow at her imploringly, but she refused to give him the reason. It was too embarrassing and simply too childish to reveal to her husband. She was nearly twenty-five, after all, and far too old to be letting some stupid comment she made when she was a love-struck teenager control her.

"How about we make a deal?" Payson suggested, willing to compromise to some degree. "If he's born on or before Christmas, we do it my way – Nicolae Alexandru – and if he's born after Christmas, we do it your way. Okay?"

Sasha agreed, thinking the odds were in his favour. The baby was due just a few days before Christmas and they both had their predictions for when he would arrive. Payson, basing her prediction upon what she would vaguely refer to as woman's intuition, was expecting the baby to arrive right on schedule mostly because her body had always been good at keeping to schedules. Sasha, who had gone and read more than a dozen parenting books upon discovering that he was about to be a father, expected the baby in the last week of December and towards the first week of January. Both were confident in winning the wager and so Sasha let it go without further questioning.

And Payson remained confident right up to the eleventh hour, or rather, the fifteenth. Her water broke late Christmas morning, just as she was unwrapping her gifts and cosying up with Sasha to watch 'A Muppets Christmas Carol'. Their plans for the day – which largely consisted of watching Christmas specials seeing as pending childbirth had gotten them out of having to spend time with Payson's extended family – were ruined, along with their couch, when 'baby Belov' (as the nurses insisted upon calling him) suddenly decided it was time for him to make his entrance.

"Sasha, for gods sake!" she cried cringing through a contraction. She had been told that these would only get worse as the labour progressed and hoped that people had simply been exaggerating. "I do not need an electric toothbrush charger in order to have a baby! Everything I need is in that bag, now can we please just go?"

"Right, right," he said quickly, panic evident in his wide blue eyes. "Right," he repeated once again, racing towards the door. He stopped and turned back, desperately searching the surfaces around him. "Pay, have you seen my keys?"

"Sasha," she growled dangerously.

"Right, I'll just take yours then," he replied and picked up the fluffy key chain hanging nearby. "C'mon, love," he said, wrapping an arm protectively around her as he led her out towards the car. "Just breathe, love. _Respira_."

"Sasha, now is not the time for language lessons," she warned him, gritting her teeth.

"Right, sorry," he said quickly looking contrite. She almost wanted to laugh at his expression – the unshakeable Sasha Belov stood beside her, looking like a lost little boy with no clue what to do next. It softened her slightly, and she took pity upon him for the time being and bit back the scathing reply that threatened to escape. She made a subtle gesture towards the car to remind him of what he was to do next, letting his instincts take over from there.

"I forgot to call Kim," he said suddenly, half-way to the hospital. He had been in a sort of trance for the duration of the ride, but suddenly came to with this one thought. "I've got to go back and call her."

"No," Payson said quickly before her husband could go and do an illegal u-turn back towards their house so he could call her mother. "You can call her at the hospital," she assured him. "What comes next?" she said, hoping that going over their birthing plan might calm him and bring him back to his senses.

"Pack the car," he said. "Then put you in the car. Then drive to Saint Augustines and we go straight to the maternity ward, not to the emergency." Payson nodded along silently and saw Sasha slowly returning to himself, the lost expression fading to one she was more familiar with.

"This is really happening, isn't it?" he asked with a gaping smile. "We're really about to have a baby."

"We are," Payson smiled back at him.

"I love you," he told her sincerely, his expression full of warmth and affection. "I love you so much."

"_Eu te iubesc_," she replied.

Fifteen hours of labour later, it was much more difficult to maintain that sentiment. Not only because it was the greatest pain she'd ever experienced in her life, but also because it was now Boxing Day and she'd now have to face their arrangement.

"Oh he's so cute," Kaylie cooed as she stroked a hand against the sleeping baby-Belov's cheek as he lay in his mother's arms. "I so want one of these. I just want to eat him up."

"Don't you dare," Payson warned teasingly. "Not after all the effort I just went to." They laughed at the joke, her three best friends already besotted with her tiny baby boy.

"So what did you name him?" asked Lauren, leaning over the end of the bed with an eager look in her eye.

Payson tried to hide her grimace as the moment she had been dreading came upon her. It wasn't that she disliked the name and she even thought it suited their baby son more perfectly than the alternative, it's just that she knew her own words were about to be used against her and she could already feel her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Alexandru Nicolae Belov," she replied, trying to keep her voice even.

"Alex Andrew?" Lauren didn't even attempt to hide the grimace on her face or the disdain in her voice. Emily nudged her unsubtly, giving her an admonishing look.

"Great name, Payson," Lauren lied with a tight, false smile and childishly crossed her fingers behind her back.

Payson rolled her eyes. "It's not 'Alex Andrew'," she replied in a brash accent. "He's _Alexandru_," she said, putting especial emphasis on the proper pronunciation. "It's Romanian for Alexander."

"Oh," Lauren said understandingly and began to smile menacingly as realization sunk in. "So you named him after Sasha?" she asked with a grin, leaning eagerly over the end of the bed once again.

"Yes," Payson said, returning Lauren's menacing look with a hard glare.

"So _technically_," Lauren began, drawing out the word, "he's 'Sasha Junior', no?" She gave them what would otherwise have been an innocent smile if not for the sly, almost cruel look in her eyes.

"Technically," Sasha beamed, his own happiness making him blind to Lauren's ulterior motives, "although I think he looks more of an 'Alex' or 'Dru'."

Payson smiled, looking gratefully towards her husband who had unintentionally saved her from Lauren's taunts.

"I love you," she told him sincerely, meeting his warm gaze with a matching expression.

"_Eu te iubesc_," Sasha replied, pride glimmering in his eyes as gazed upon the life they had created. He leaned in closer, his breath warm on her cheek as he whispered in her ear.

"I love you, Payson Marie Belov," he told her softly, "and that is why I promise we will never call our son 'Sasha Junior'."

~FIN~

I'm a touch unhappy with the ending, but I still like this, especially the starting argument about 'Dracula'

Translations:  
_din nou impreuna_: together again  
_Respira_: Breath  
_Eu te iusbesc_: I love you too

Notes:  
Keeler is not an Irish surname. Quick google search suggests it's probably German in origin.  
I may have upgraded the status of patronymics in Romanian naming conventions but I figured that if ABC are allowed to pretend that being Romanian is the same as being Russian then so can I. I just really like patronymics and felt the need to mention them.


	3. The Capital of Portugal February 2025

**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

This one I love. It's not quite as closely connected to the quote as the first two, but it is connected to the second drabble, so that is close enough, right? As always, Romanian translations and any extra notes will be at the end. 'Sandu', for anyone wondering, is the common pet name for 'Alexandru' according to the website I use to source names. Apparently said website is only available to fanfic writers and not the writers of ABC Family who went instead with the common RUSSIAN pet name but I've decided to leave may rant about how Romanian is not at all like Russian (Romance and Slavic language families having diverged much further back in history than, say, Romance and Germanic (English)) for another time.

So without further ado, the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

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Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

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**The Capital of Portugal**

"_Mamă_, are we Lesbian?"

Payson gaped, unsure of how to reply to what her child assumed to be an innocuous question.

"Oh, I've just got to hear this," laughed Becca, an eager smile on her lips.

Payson glared at her sister and bent closer to her six year old son. He had a look of innocent curiosity in his blue-grey eyes – his father's eyes – and absolutely no conception of how inappropriate his question was.

"Weren't you just leaving?" Payson asked her sister pointedly, hoping that she might take the hint. Becca would only encourage Alexandru's curiosity, and while Payson was happy to oblige him herself, she really didn't want to go into a discussion about lesbians while standing in front of the school gates with several members of her parents group listening nearby.

"Yes, but that was before my gorgeous nephew asked such an intriguing question," Becca replied cheerily with a sickly sweet smile. "Now, Dru," she began, turning her full attention on her young nephew, "why do you ask?"

"Harley" – Alexandru's best friend – "said _M__amă_ and _Tată _were Lesbian, so we must all be Lesbian, but I told him we are _Români_," he told them, a touch of pride lilting his voice and his bastardized American-English-European accent suddenly apparent in his pronunciation of the last word. He let them both know that he'd gone to the effort to correct his friend on their behalf, or at least his father's.

Becca blinked, her grin broadening as she tried not to laugh at her sweet little nephew. "So what's a lesbian, Dru?" she had to ask just to see her sister turn redder with embarrassment.

Alexandru rolled his eyes somewhat condescendingly – he was lucky that he was six and ridiculously adorable because he certainly wouldn't have gotten away with it otherwise. "It's a person from Lisbon, which is in Portugal, which is near Romania." It wasn't – not really – except for in a relative sense, but for Alexandru there only existed two places in the world – America and Romania – and everywhere that wasn't America was near Romania even if it was really near America. Mexico was a prime example of this fact.

Even Payson had to laugh a little at her son's exasperated response. His manner was just too much like her own, and quite endearing in her son. She enjoyed seeing these parts of herself in Alexandru, who was in all other respects, just a smaller version of Sasha with lighter hair as the only evidence of her genetic input.

Alexandru's response, however, made it quite apparent that neither he nor Harley had any idea of what a lesbian was. Harley had been satisfied to hear that Alexandru was Romanian and not Lesbian, and Alexandru seemed sure in his assumption that being Lesbian was the same as being Portuguese.

"So why did Harley think you were lesbian, Sandu?" she asked, cringing and thinking she'd said the word 'lesbian' a little too loud. Harley had clearly overheard some adults talking and repeated it to Alexandru, and she really hoped it wasn't Harley's mother as she was really starting to like the woman despite some initial unease.

"He heard Miss Peregrine say so," Alexandru replied, guiltlessly implicating his first grade teacher.

"Oh, that's classic," Becca grinned. "I take it Miss Peregrine hasn't met Sasha yet. I can't imagine anyone speculating about that sort of thing after meeting your husband."

Payson gave her sister a tight smile, her expression nearly matching Alexandru's earlier one. She shook her head in response to the question. "He was still in Romania when Sandu started school," she explained, "so he missed 'meet the teachers' evening."

"Bet he regrets that when you tell him," Becca laughed. She could already picture the look on Sasha's face when he heard and hoped she could be around to see her brother-in-law's out of character reaction.

"I'm not telling him," Payson replied plainly, her expression blank. Becca looked surprised initially, but understanding seemed to draw over her as she noticed an almost sinister glint in her sister's eyes. It seemed it was time for Miss Peregrine to find out just who Sasha Belov was.

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"Shit," Sasha muttered once again as he glanced at his watch. He was significantly late in picking up Alexandru, having forgotten that Payson had asked him to do so until his secretary came out and asked him what the hell he was still doing at the gym at three o'clock. Payson was going to kill him when she found out, which meant he was going to have to bribe Sandu with ice cream so he would keep it a secret.

Not that he routinely bribed his children into doing anything of the sort.

He took the halls at a brisk pace, checking the room numbers as he went until he eventually stopped outside Room 11. He ducked into the classroom, empty except for a prim, dark-haired woman seated behind a wooden desk.

"Am I in the right place?" he asked her. "I'm looking for Alexandru."

The woman glanced up at him, confusion awash on her features as she took in the sight of him. Now in his forties, Sasha certainly wasn't the same man he had been in his twenties, or even thirties, but he was still a very attractive man with a very attractive accent. He still maintained his athletic physique, largely to keep up with his impossibly energetic son and daughter. His blonde hair was slowly turning a light shade of silver and his face was free of his trademark five o'clock shadow, giving him a more refined and debonair look. The woman could almost be forgiven for taking a moment to admire him, although obviously not by his wife.

"Dru Belov?" Sasha tried again, misattributing the confusion he saw on her features to the unfamiliar name and not to his unfamiliar presence.

"Dru?" she said slowly, the words not quite making it past all the other thoughts circling through her mind. "Oh, Dru," she said finally. "He's in my class." She stood from her desk, moving towards him in a manner akin to a predator.

Sasha smiled tightly. "You must be Miss Peregrine," he said, offering his hand in greeting. "I'm sorry I'm so late. His mother reminded me this morning, but it just completely slipped my mind."

"It's fine," Miss Peregrine replied and waved off his apology as she shook his hand. "And please, call me 'Sylvia'."

Sasha gave her another tight smile, resolving that he would need to be careful to avoid her name from now on.

"So you must be Alexandru's uncle?" Miss Peregrine asked, calling the student by his full name in an effort to impress herself upon her student's relative. Like most Americans, she completely butchered the pronunciation, saying it in that awful 'Alex-Andrew' way that he was sure made his relatives all turn in their graves.

"I'm his father," Sasha replied tersely with a frown. He had gotten used to people making these sorts of judgements in their early years of their relationship, but it had been awhile since people had given him those sorts of looks. He was only ten years older than Payson, and now that they were both nearing the half-way point in their lives, people had stopped obsessing over the age gap between them – these days he tended to get looks of awe for having such an attractive young wife rather than critical ones. Apparently his son's teacher still thought him too old to be Payson's husband and so thought him an older uncle rather than father. Or at least that's what Sasha assumed.

Miss Peregrine's eyes widened. "So you're . . ." she said, nodding thoughtfully. "That's just . . . so kind and caring . . . that has to be the most unselfish act in the world, what you did for Payson and Sasha."

"Excuse me?" Sasha asked, not understanding at all where she was going in this.

For some reason, Miss Peregrine assumed he was just being shy and patted his shoulder. "Giving your sperm to Payson and Sasha so they could have a real family despite their relationship going against god's will."

Sasha glared. "I am Sasha," he told her darkly, his expression grim.

Her eyes widened as those three words filtered through her mind. "You're . . ." she said, looking distraught. "What- "

"_Tată_!" Sandu called, racing down the hall to greet his father. "You're late."

Sasha turned to greet him, his hard looks and tight smiles turning into a real, face-splitting grin as he lifted his son into his arms. "_Fiul meu_," he beamed, placing sloppy kiss of greeting on each cheek. "How was your day, _Puiul_?"

"_Necrezut!_" Sandu replied with an excited gesture. He then proceeded to describe every detail of his day in great detail. He did so in Romanian, which was his preferred language due to their having spent nearly a year and a half in the country before returning to America so he could start school in the September.

Miss Peregrine looked surprised to see her student speaking quickly in a language she didn't understand, especially when his father replied in the same tongue. She had, on occasion, heard similar words from Alexandru, but had always assumed it to be some sort of made up language and actually thought that the child might have some sort of mental impairment or learning difficulty that she would have brought up with his 'Moms' at their parent-teacher conference.

"C'mon. I'll take you for ice cream," Sasha said in English once Alexandru had finished sharing the details of his day.

"Mr Belov," Miss Peregrine called, stopping them before they left.

"Please. Call me 'Sasha'," he replied with a tight smile, a part of him pleased to see her look even more mortified. "It's what I'm accustomed to. In Europe, 'Sasha' is a very common nickname for 'Alexandru', but it seems to be mistaken for a girls name here in America," he continued sarcastically, glaring at her knowingly.

"I just wanted to apologize," she began vaguely, "I shouldn't have – "

"It's Payson you should be apologizing to," he said sternly as he cut off her attempt to make peace. "And probably Dru.

"We'll be expecting a phone call," he said in his no nonsense manner. She didn't dare argue, something inside her knowing better than to even think about going against his word. "Payson will be home around six."

* * *

"You could have warned me," he complained to Payson when she arrived home later that evening. He greeted her with a chaste kiss before chivalrously taking Caitlin from her arms.

"Tell you what?" Payson asked, feigning ignorance.

"That _Miss Peregrine_," he said disdainfully, "thought I was your girlfriend."

Payson grinned. She tempted to correct him and let him know that 'life partner' was the 'accepted vernacular' these days, but decided to take a bit of pity on his pained expression. "I didn't think you'd believe me," she shrugged. "I suppose you set her straight, so to speak."

"Oh yes," he replied darkly. "I think we should change schools."

"Because Sandu's teacher thought you were a girl?" Payson asked sceptically, shaking her head. While she wasn't exactly happy with the teacher's assumption, she considered enrolling their son in another school a bit of an over reaction.

"No, I want to change schools because she used the phrase 'against god's will'," he repeated with a shudder.

Payson laughed at the phrase, her reaction to the words not nearly as violent as Sasha's – probably due to the fact that she hadn't been involved in a relationship with a teetotallering, born-again Christian, homophobic purist, and therefore didn't have quite the same personal experience to draw upon. "How on earth did she manage to bring herself to teach our unholy child?" she drawled sarcastically. "Thank god for her charity. I'm surprised she wasn't hunting me and my 'life partner' down to burn at the stake."

"Payson, this isn't funny," Sasha replied seriously. "She might have been thinking of those exact measures."

Payson looked at him gently, raising a hand to cup against his cheek and calm some of his outrage. "Honey, it is," she said softly, holding his gaze until some of the darkness left his expression.

"Especially when you hear what Sandu thinks a lesbian is," she added with a cheeky grin, which she could see him starting to reflect back in the quirking corners of his lips.

"What is it then?" he replied tiredly, maintaining his staunch position despite the gleeful smile on his wife's lips.

"I won't tell you," she said happily, changing her mind now that she had him where she wanted him. "You have to guess."

"Do I get a hint?" he suggested, becoming more relaxed as the game continued.

"Yes," Payson nodded and her eyes lighted with mischief.

"What is the capital of Portugal?"

~FIN~

Hmmm, methinks I may have been a touch harsh on Summer there, but I stick by my description. I so enjoyed this one - I like it better than the second one, but that seemed to come logically first, else you'd all be confused as to where Alexandru came from.

* * *

**Translations:**

_Mamă: _I know it's obvious, but I used the funny accent thing so technically it's a translation of mother (informal).  
_Tată:_ Father (informal).  
_Români_: Romanian (plural).  
_Fiul meu:_ My son.  
_Puiul:_ I think it means 'cub', but I'm not sure. I found it ages ago when I was looking for nicknames/pet names and I remember it meaning 'cub' but I couldn't find confirmation. Google translate seems to suggest that the 'pui' part at least is used to refer to any kind of baby animal (cubs, fouls, chicks etc.) and that puiul means chicken.  
_Necrezut: _Marvelous.

**Notes:  
**I will be completely shocked if anyone gets the Harley/Dru reference.


	4. All I Want For Christmas Dec 2024

**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

A late Christmas one. This one is slightly angsty in parts and has a whole lot of implied back story, but none of it is really that important. I tried to keep it reasonably light given that was the point of this drabble series to begin with. It takes place a few months before the previous one.

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

**

* * *

**

Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

* * *

**All I Want For Christmas**

Payson shook her head as Sasha came down the stairs, lifting her reading book higher in order to hide her expression. The book, however, did nothing to hide her shaking shoulders or unbidden giggles.

"What?" Sasha asked, crossing his arms awkwardly over his chest and sending her a defiant look that only made her laugh harder.

"You look ridiculous, Sasha," she laughed, putting down her book. "And you're not even well disguised. Sandu's a smart kid. He'll know it's you under all that."

"He won't once I find the beard," he argued, going through the box of old things he'd brought back from Romania. "He fell for it last year."

"Last year he was turning five and Dmitri actually looked the part in the Santa suit," she was quick to rebut. "You're not fair enough to play Santa Claus and you look ridiculous with that pillow stuffed down your chest."

"Fine," Sasha said, pulling the pillow out from where it was encased in the bright red suit. "Better?" he asked her pointedly, holding out his gloved hands for inspection.

Payson rolled her eyes. "You look a very sexy Santa, Sasha," she assured him, "but not a convincing one."

"I'll tell him I went to a weight loss resort in Ibiza," he said.

"And came out looking almost exactly like his father in a red suit?"

Sasha sighed and sat himself down on the end of the stairs. "This isn't going to work, is it?" he admitted finally. "I just wanted to keep up the tradition, but it's futile," he said despondently, running his fingers through his hair in defeat.

Payson smiled sadly at his expression, moving quickly across the room to console her husband. "We'll just have to let this one go," she told him gently as she stood between his knees, "but there are other traditions we get to keep and I'm sure Sandu will remember him even without this one."

He looked up, his sad blue-grey eyes meeting hers. He nodded sadly, accepting that this was something he would have to let go – another part of his father he wouldn't be able to keep alive.

"_Te iubesc_," he said quietly, pulling her close and resting his head against her stomach.

"Ditto," she smiled, gently stroking his broad shoulders in comforting circles. When he relaxed his hold, she sat herself down on his knees and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck. He really did make a very attractive Santa Claus (not a good Santa, but an attractive one), all dressed up in a red velour suit with white trimmings, and black leather boots. She readjusted the red cap atop his hair and smilingly kissed his cheek.

"Shall I tell you what I want for Christmas, Santa?" she asked him sweetly as her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Sasha responded with a weak smile, but played his part in the game and let her take his mind off of more depressing matters. "That depends on whether you've been naughty or nice," he answered her, watching as her eyes flashed with amusement.

"I've been plenty nice to you," she protested. "Some might say too nice."

"You weren't very nice last night," he argued. She glared dangerously and Sasha raised his hands in surrender. She shook her head, muttering some comment about how she had been genuinely ill and he had been completely unsupportive of her plight.

"You are exceptionally nice, Payson Belov," he told her, with a quick peck to the lips to appease her, "and I suppose I'd be obliged to grant you your heart's desire, _scumpa mea soție_."

Payson grinned and thoughtfully considered her heart's desire. "Can I have a puppy?" she asked him brightly, putting on childish airs.

"I thought we discussed that one," he replied with a mock frown.

"Choo-choo train?"

Sasha grimaced playfully, shaking his head. "I'm not sure I have that in my sack."

Payson cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes slightly. "Was that an innuendo?"

"How is that -" Sasha began to complain but stopped as he realized how it could be taken, especially with Payson sitting on his lap the way she was in a tight black v-neck seater and a pair of his pajama pants hanging off her hips. "You have a very dirty mind, Mrs. Belov," he admonished, tapping her nose teasingly. "Perhaps you are not as nice as I thought."

"If I'm not, then it's your fault, _draga soț_," she replied surely. "I was perfectly innocent before you came along."

"Perfect, yes," he answered lowly, "never innocent."

Payson shuddered at the low, enticing timbre of his voice and the disarming look in his eyes. Her husband would always be assured in his ability to make her want him with little more than four innocuous words.

She stepped out of his embrace, a very large part of her begrudging the sudden loss of contact, and met his stare with one meant o convey every feeling of love, desire and devotion she felt for him. "Isn't it obvious, Santa?" she said in answer to his bewildered looks and gave a small tug to his hands get him to his feet. She smiled affectionately as she wrapped her arms around his neck once again and felt his automatically got to her waist. She kissed him surely, her lips pressed deliciously against his in a familiar embrace.

"All I want from Christmas," she told him in a low whisper, "is you."

* * *

"Sandu, is everything alright?" Sasha asked as his son sat reluctantly before a pile of unopened presents wringing his fingers in his lap. The nearly six-year-old appeared to be having some internal debate with himself and kept giving the pile disdainful looks as he fought back tears.

Alexandru glanced at his father and shook his head, his expression all the more distraught for seeing him. "There's something I have to tell you," he said, sniffing loudly, "but I don't want to tell you, 'cause it's gonna make you sad, _Tată_.

"I don't want to make you sad," he wailed, slipping completely into Romanian and throwing himself into his father's arms.

"It's okay, Sandu," Sasha uttered gently, rubbing soft, comforting circles into his son's back. "I promise whatever it is, you can tell me and I won't be sad or angry. It's okay."

Sandu shook his head, burying it further into his father's chest. Sasha glanced at Payson over Sandu's head, giving her a quick questioning look but she seemed as clueless as him as to the reason behind their son's strange behaviour.

"You can tell me, _puiule_," he repeated. "There's no need to worry."

The gentle voice of his father seemed to clam him to some degree, and so Sandu broke into a screed of fast Romanian, explaining what it was he was afraid would make Sasha so sad. "I saw Mama sitting with Mr. _Santa_," he explained sadly, continuing almost reluctantly, "and she was sitting on his knee. And then she kissed Mr. _Santa_ and Mr. _Santa_ kissed her back. And then she kissed him again and it was a real kiss, like the way you and Mama kiss when you're alone.

"I think _Mamă_ loves _Domnul _Santa!" he wailed loudly in English, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he cried for the apparent affair his mother was having with Santa Claus. Payson almost cooed aloud at his sweetness, torn between comforting him herself and simply seeing how Sasha talked his way out of this one.

"Sandu, that wasn't Santa Claus," Sasha began, speaking slowly to gethe point across as clearly as possible.

Sandu sniffed dramatically, wiping his wet face on his father' shirt. "I thought there was something strange about him last year," Sandu commented darkly, his eyes narrowed in an expression that was most definitely his mother's.

"That was _bunic_," Sasha nodded in reply, regretting it as soon as he saw Sandu's face contort with fear, horror, and disgust. The boy glanced quickly at his mother and then looked back to his father.

"_Mamă_ kissed _bunic_? That's against the LAW."

Sasha grimaced, struggling to find the words needed to clarify the situation. "_Bunic's_ not with us anymore, remember?" Sandu nodded, looking suddenly sad.

"But _bunic_ had a tradition," he explained, stroking a hand through his son's light hair as he spoke. "He started it when I was his little _puiule_ in România – even younger than you are now. And every Christmas he would dress up like Santa Claus and come into my room, and place one present – the best present – on the end of my bed. Then he'd wake me up, and just as I opened my eyes, I'd see Santa Claus on his way.

"But _bunic_ is not here," Sasha said sadly, his own eyes hazy with emotion, "and I tried to continue the tradition for you. But I just looked really silly in the suit and I couldn't find all the parts, so I couldn't do it because you'd know it was me underneath and the magic would be gone. And so your _Mamă_ was trying to make me feel better because I couldn't do this for you like my _Tată_ did it for me."

Sandu nodded understandingly, taking a moment to fully absorb all the details. "So _Mamă_ isn't leaving us so that she can marry Santa Claus?" he asked carefully, his eyes flicking between his parents.

"No," Payson said assuringly, a smile on her lips. She leaned over to place a kiss on the top of his head and affectionately stroking his cheek. "I'd never leave you, Sandu."

"Okay," Sandu agreed cheerfully, his mood completely flipped in an instance as he dived eagerly into the previously reprehensible pile of presents. He was nothing if not loyal, and so as long as the presents did not come from a man who was trying steal away his mother, Sandu was more than willing to accept them.

"Hey, _Mamă_?" sandu asked once he was done desiccating the pile of presents. "If you did marry _Domnul_ Santa . . .

"Do you think he'd get me a puppy?

~ FIN ~

There we go, a nice little piece of family fluff. Hope you all had a nice Christmas/Kwanza/Chanukah. Apologies if I haven't included your personal holiday of choice there; hope you had a good one all the same.

* * *

**Translations:**

___Te iubesc: _I love you.  
_scumpa mea soție: my darling wife.  
__draga soț: _dear husband.  
_Tată:_ Father.  
_Puiule:_ Baby/cub.  
Mamă: Mother.  
_Domnul_: Mister.  
_bunic:_ grandfather.

**Notes:  
**When I was writing the bit with Alexandru/Sandu/Dru talking about Santa I had a sudden urge to write 'Santa-san' (I clearly write too much anime) and decided to check out whether or not there were any Romanian honorifics. Thus, the Mr. Santa/Domnul Santa used by Dru. Plus, I think it just sounds so cute when he says 'Mr. Santa' instead of just Santa.


	5. The Language of Love 2017

**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

This one fits somewhere between drabble one and drabble two - after they're married, but before Sandu/Dru/Sasha Jr is born. Is slightly mature (yay, finally get a fic T-rated for content and not just language) and has a lot of Romanian in it. I used google-translate and a Romanian-English dictionary, so hopefully the combination has kept me on track.

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

**

* * *

**

Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

* * *

**The Language of Love**

"I should learn this," Payson murmured breathlessly as Sasha whispered sweet endearments in her ear in a language so different from her own. He bit hard on her ear as she lay under him, pressed into the couch, almost making her forget what it was she was trying to tell him. "I'm serious," she insisted and pushed her hands against his chest, but without any force or leverage that would actually cause him to cease his actions.

"Learn what?" he answered in a low drawl as his lips moved systematically along the column of her neck, working their way down to the juncture between her neck and shoulder and then back up towards her jaw.

"Hmmm?" she asked vaguely, momentarily dazed as he caught her lips in chaste, but clearly mind dulling kiss. "Romanian," she said as he pulled back, giving her a second to retrieve the thought. "I should learn Romanian."

"No," he said, shaking his head before leaning back in to capture her lips in a slightly less chaste kiss. This time she did push him back with force, his response clearing up the Sasha-induced fog in her brain that his actions had instilled.

"Why not?" she asked him, hurt evident on her features.

"Because then I'd actually have to think about the things I say to you," he answered. "I'm not sure I have the energy to spare when you're looking so nearly ravished," he told her seductively as he curled his fingers into her hair and pressed their bodies into closer contact.

She gasped but remained determined in her new mission. It was one of the many things they had in common – complete single-mindedness, to the point that she could set aside the part of her that very much wanted to continue with the kissing and seduction, in order to have her husband teach her his native tongue. "Please, Sasha," she asked coyly and threaded her fingers through his. She looked up at him through her lashes – a look that she rarely exploited against her husband, but which she knew to be super effective – and continued to play with his fingers – his own special weakness. "I'll do that thing you like . . ."

He sighed, realizing he wouldn't be getting any further this evening unless he gave in to her demands.

"_Dorinţa ta este comandă mea_," he said to her as he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. "Your wish is my command."

"_Eu te iubi_", he said and had her repeat the phrase after him until she got it right. He smiled, realizing that there was a certain appeal to sharing his language with her. There was something so right about having his wife cautiously share romantic sentiments in a language that was only between the two of them – almost as though they had a secret that no one else knew.

"I adore you," he translated, whispering lowly in her ear and kissing her cheek.

_"Te iubesc,"_ he said, giving her slight variation of the previous phrase. "I love you. _Te voi iubi cu fiecare respiraţie până când acesta este ultimul meu,"_ he added sincerely. "I will love you with every breath until it is my last."

She teared up a little at this, his sentimental words not have quite the effect he was intending. He cupped her face gently in his hands and used his thumbs to stroke away the tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and kissed her forehead consoling. _"Scumpa mea,_" he said softly, _"__nu plânge_.

"_Eşti frumos_," he said lowly, kissing her other cheek and smoothly transitioning from teacher to mere translator now that she was properly appeased and distracted. "You are beautiful."

He trailed kisses down to her jaw and continued, "_Nu am văzut niciodată altceva, sau altcineva, mai frumos_.

"I have never seen anything, or anyone, more beautiful," he assured her.

"_Stiu ca-ti place cand te săruta acolo,"_ he said lowly and – perhaps pushing the envelope – bit down on the sensitive skin just below her ear. She gasped and he grinned against her skin. "I know you love it when I – "

"Sasha!" she said forcibly, pushing him away and effectively stopping him from going any further. She pulled her legs out from under him and pulled them tight against her chest. With a barrier between them – however feeble – she felt she might be more successful in keeping her wits about her.

"You tricked me," she complained, her expression child-like and her eyes accusing. "You were supposed to teach me, not seduce me."

He apologized, but it didn't take a genius to discern that he didn't mean it. In fact, he actually looked quite proud of himself, which didn't really surprise her.

"I'll be good, _drag__ă_," he promised, smiling imploringly. "See," he said as he unwound her hand from the tight hold on her legs, holding it gently in his own. _"__Mână_."

_"__Mână_," she repeated and he smiled encouragingly.

He trailed his hand gently down to he fingers, resting the delicate digits against the palm of his hand. "_Degete_," he said and then turned her hand over, lifting her wrist to his lips, "and _încheietura_."

"_Alexandru_," she warned, her eyes narrowing at his boyish, guilty expression. He always knew she was serious when she called him by his full name.

"Alright. No more _mâini_," he answered sheepishly, holding up his hands in surrender. He pulled her bare legs across his lap and ran his finger along the arch of her foot. She giggled, trying to pull it from his grasp, but he held firmly, grinning all the while. _"__Degetele de la picioare_," he said and teasingly squeezed her toes. He moved on, starting at her toes and massaging his hand against he sole, _"__picior_."

He slid his right hand up the back of her calf and round to the front at her knees, giving instruction as he went. "_Gleznă. Pulpă. Genunchi_. . .

"_Coapsă_," he said with a dangerous smirk as his hand slid up her thigh and under the hem of her skirt.

"Sasha, no," she said, pushing his hand away (with great effort) and jumping out of his embrace. She crossed her arms stonily across her chest and sent him a cool glare. "If you're going to be like this, I'm just going to have to find someone else to teach me Romanian."

He frowned at the threat and scrambled from the couch so he could pull her into his arms. "I'm sorry, _scumpa mea_," he appeased her quickly. "You're just hard to resist."

Payson pouted for a moment but sulkily gave in with a muttered, "_Eşti iertat._"

"Well good," he replied, pulling her back to their former position. "If I promise to be good, can I teach you facial features?"

She shrugged nonchalantly and turned her head away to hide her smile as she waited for him to notice an anomaly in her dialogue. With her consent, he gently traced the features of her face, pronouncing each one in his delicious native tongue until suddenly he stopped mid-word, blinking at her curiously.

"You said that in Romanian," he stated obviously. "I didn't teach you how to say that."

He froze, eyes widened with horror and fear as he jumped back on the couch. "How long?" he asked her, gulping conspicuously. "How long have known what I saying?"

She smiled coquettishly and tilted her head to the side in an amused way. "Long enough, Sasha," she answered.

"And just so you know, _Alexandru,_" she said, a dangerous lilt to her voice, "calling me your fluffy little kitten, who doesn't drive very well but who you still love, isn't romantic," she assured him in a half-amused tone. She then stood to her feet, making her way quickly out of the room before he had the chance to come up with some argument in his defence.

As much as he loathed to admit it, she did make a fair point there.

Although it did have a certain ring to it in Romanian.

"_Meu pisicuţă pufos mici, care nu conduce foarte bine, dar pe care îl iubesc toţi la fel_."

~ FIN ~

Honestly, I still reckon Sasha could say anything he liked it Romanian and it would still be hot. Then again, it's probably best not to belittle your wife's driving skills in the midst of a 'make-out' session. So on the fence here.

Does anyone else reckon they should've had Sasha speak more (some) Romanian on the show? Just me then?

Anyways, review and let me know what you think.

* * *

**Translations:**

___Scumpa mea: My darling  
__nu plânge:_ don't cry  
_drag__ă: _dear/honey  
_Mână: _Hand  
_Degete:_ Fingers  
_încheietura: _wrist  
_mâini: _hands  
_Degetele de la picioare: _Toes. Literally 'fingers (digits) of the feet' which I think is so cute I just wanted to 'squee' when I saw it. Yes, I did mean to write 'squee'.  
_picior: _foot  
_Gleznă: _Ankle_  
Pulpă: Calf  
Genunchi:_ Knee  
_Coapsă:_ Thigh  
_Eşti iertat: You're forgiven._

___Meu pisicuţă pufos mici, care nu conduce foarte bine, dar pe care îl iubesc toţi la fel: _My fluffy little kitten, who doesn't drive very well, but whom I love all the same.  


**Notes:  
**I think I've said all I needed to say.


	6. Tripped and Fell August 2013

**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

I've been trying to write this one for SO long - this is where this universe begins I suppose with Sasha and Payson's first post-Olympics meeting. It's only slightly shippy, and probably more friendshippy than anything, but friendship is the best begining, don't you think? And I always like to think of these two as being fantastic friends before anything else.

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

**

* * *

**

Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

* * *

**Tripped and Fell**

Sasha had to admit that it was good to be schmoozed. It had been so long since he was anyone worth schmoozing that he'd almost forgotten how good it could be, but having six athletes from his club on the Olympic gymnastics team and a record 20 medals between them had put him right back at the top of the competitive gymnastics community with gymnastics programmes all over the world vying for his attention.

After more than six months of ignoring the constant offers, he'd finally decided to let them try. He doubted they would have anything he was interested in, but he'd accept their free booze and compliments and the travel perks that came with it as they shipped him all over the world to meet the best and brightest that gymnastics had to offer and the current forerunners for 2016.

He'd let them all believe what they wanted to believe – that they might actually have a shot of convincing him that they were worth his time.

He smiled to himself as he approached the open bar at The Museum of Natural History; probably one of the swankiest meet and greets he'd been invited to. It was a black-tie affair, which he couldn't help but think was a little over the top, put on by University of Washington in an attempt to woo him into college gymnastics. Their current team was barely even a blip on his radar, but their NCAA representative had been insistent that he wouldn't be disappointed by their offer, and who was he to pass judgment before checking out the spread?

He wasn't even seriously considering college gymnastics. Not until they brought out the one thing that no other gymnastics programme in the world could offer him – the one thing he had sorely missed over the last year as he forced himself once again into semi-reclusive retirement born largely of the knowledge that he would never find another gymnast like her, no matter how hard he tried. Payson Keeler had completely spoiled him as a gymnastics coach – ruined him with her willingness, her talent, and her determination, and her ability to almost read his mind when they working intensely together, side-by-side as equals. And now here she was in all her glory, hair slight shorter than he remembered, her figure more womanly and hourglass-like – something he chastised himself for noticing – but with the same slightly self-conscious, beautiful smile he'd become accustomed to in his time as her coach.

They must have spotted one another at the same moment, as her eyes suddenly brightened and he barely had a second to check himself before she began to stride towards him, a beautiful violet dress – the colour he'd always associated with her in his memories – swirling around her figure. She was almost ethereal – goddess like – and he actually pinched himself on the arm to check that she was real and not simply a particularly persuasive figment of his imagination.

"Sasha . . ." she said as she finally arrived before him, her voice exactly how he remembered it. She trailed off, unable to find the words to express how happy she was to see him.

Sasha found himself similarly dumbstruck. What do you say to someone you went from spending every day of your life with for the past three years, to someone you haven't seen in almost a year? They'd gone from sharing nearly every detail of their existence and having their lives revolve around one another and the gym, to being two separate entities and him not even knowing what she was doing here in Seattle.

He smiled slightly, his mouth working without any help from the other parts of his body – his brain and voice box – to try and find something to break this strange, awkward stalemate between them. For all his efforts, it was Payson who broke the silence, flinging her arms around his neck and invading his senses with the scent of coconuts and vanilla.

And that was enough to revive him. He returned the gesture, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and lifting her in a small circle. He even laughed a little as he was transported back in time, remembering similar celebrations in London when she won her first gold medal. He was pretty sure the two events shouldn't have been comparable, but that's how he felt like right now – as though they had just conquered the world together and everything was exactly the way that it was supposed to be.

"God, Payson," he said as he returned her to her feet, still struggling to find the words. "You are a sight for sore eyes," he told her, resorting to the tried and tested cliché. "It's so good to see you. What are you doing here?"

She rolled her eyes at his bluntness and lack of tact, smiling brightly all the same. Conversation came easily between them once the ice was broken, just as it always had. Their relationship had always been different than that between him and the other rebels or any other gymnast he had coached. It was so different from the relationship he had with his own coach even and there was nothing he could think of to compare it to.

"I'm here to schmooze some potential gymnastics coach in return for the dean recommending me for a summer studentship," she told him, having no shame at her own motives or her dirty dealings for the establishment. "What about you?"

He let out a low chuckle at seeing how the universe had placed them in the same place at the same time with complimentary purposes. "Potential gymnastics coach," he answered simply.

Payson gaped. "Are you serious?" she asked him. "I thought you said the NCAA was full of hacks that couldn't stomach _real _gymnastics."

"I believe those were your words not mine," he answered her with her smirk. "I merely agreed with you at the time.

"And I don't know," he shrugged, answering the implied question. "You know I'm the most sought after gymnastics coach in the world right now, I'm just keeping my options open."

"Still as modest as ever," she laughed.

"What do you expect when you're not around to keep my ego in check?" he teased her.

"Well that settles it," she responded quickly. "You'll just have to come coach at UW so I'll be close at hand to give you're ego a knock whenever necessary."

"Very tempting," he said jokingly, not letting on how truly wonderful the offer sounded to him. "So this is where you decided to go?" he asked, changing the subject slightly. "Washington?"

"Of course," she told him. "They have one of the best Pre-Med programmes in the country."

"Pre-Med?" he questioned, eyes wide with shock. "I thought –"

"Pre-Med isn't just for wanna-be doctors," she told him, cutting him off with a shake of her head. "I haven't quite decided what I want to do, but I need the background if I decided to get into physiotherapy and it'll be handy if I get into coaching.

"I'm just keeping my options open," she added, repeating his words from earlier.

She smiled sweetly and he knew he was done for. He'd become such a sentimental fool during his time in Boulder, and the mere possibility of running into Payson Keeler even if it was only every once in a while, was enough to convince him to join the Huskies and become a 'GymDawg' (as they were known by their followers).

Of course, that didn't stop him telling Stuart Underwood, Washington's sports administrator, exactly what he thought of his tactics. A coach with less knowledge of American collegiate gymnastics might have been fooled into thinking he was getting Payson Keeler – Olympic and World Champion gymnast – as part of the package and be too busy salivating at the thought of coaching her to consider her self-stated retirement from the sport.

He said as much to the man, and he just grinned calmly in a distilling sort of away.

"You're a fisherman, right, Sasha?" he said in an easy unassuming way. "I heard you were a fisherman."

Sasha glared in response but nodded his head. "I'm also not an idiot," he responded venomously, "so let's just cut through the crap and you tell me what's going on here. I could sue you for the shit you just tried to pull."

Stuart ignored him, continuing with the conversation he had started. "And every good fisherman knows that to catch the big fish, you've got to have the right lure."

Sasha rolled his eyes, having had the very same thing drummed into him since his father first taught him how to fish when he was six. His expression tightened and he raised an eyebrow with a droll, "Your point?"

Stuart shrugged. "You're a big fish right now, Sasha, and they're all trying to catch you with everything they've got.

"The big-three are probably throwing all kinds of money at you," he continued. "Michigan have their state of the art gym. Stanford and UCLA are top of the tables right now. So I thought to myself, what does University of Washington have that Stanford and Michigan and UCLA don't? Well, we've got Payson Keeler."

"That's exactly my point, Stu," Sasha said in a harsh whisper. "I'm not an idiot. Who do you think got her an agent when she gave up her amateur status? She has no interest in college gymnastics and she told me that right from the start.

"So, what shit are you trying to pull here?" he asked once again, this time louder.

"Absolutely none," Stuart replied. "I'm not trying to pull the wool over your eyes. I'm just showing you what we have to offer.

"It's no six-figure salary, but it has a certain heart to it," he continued almost gently.

"I hope you enjoy your time at the University of Washington," Stuart said, holding out his hand. "It's a pleasure to welcome you to our team."

Sasha sighed a shook his head, silently admitting his defeat.

His father had always said that a woman would be his downfall, but he doubted this would have been what he had in mind – falling prey to college gymnastics all because of a pint-sized, former gymnast named Payson Keeler.

~ FIN ~

I had two ideas of how I wanted them to reconnect and this is the less romantic version, but the one I thought fit them better. The first was Payson using Sasha to get away from a sort-of-stalker that wouldn't take a hint and while it had some very nice lines in it, it just wouldn't move past the first premise. This one sort of wrote itself from a certain point and while it isn't my favourite drabble in the series (Language of Love by far I think), it's sort of a necessary evil before I can release my next plot bunnie.

Let me know what you think.

* * *

**Translations:**

_None._

**Notes:  
**Chapter dedicated to the people of Christchurch who were hit by a devastating earthquake yesterday, which is said to be our worst Natural disaster in 80 years. Thoughts and prayers with everyone down there and anyone with family or friends still missing or unaccounted for.


	7. The Rules for Dating my Daughter July 15

**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

I decided I wanted to write something with Mark Keeler in it and I was aiming for a sweet grandfather/grandson moment between Mark and Dru - perhaps with Mark explaining to Sandu the facts of life - but this is what came out instead. The questions came from a mixture of places - the application (which you can find online if you google it), actual interview questions, and the contract from **I Am Not My Sister's Keeper**.

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

**

* * *

**

Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

* * *

**The Rules for Dating My Daughter**

In all the time that Sasha had known Mark Keeler, he had always known him as an easy-going and reasonable man.

Except when it came to his daughters.

When it came to Payson and Rebecca, Mark could be fiercely protective, overbearing, and rather frightening. He'd been downright unreasonable at times when he thought that an action might put one of his little girls in danger, and while Sasha admired that protective quality in Mark (and hoped he could be the kind of father that Mark was to his own children in the future) he was suddenly on edge at the thought of that quality being directed at him.

"What can I do for you, Sasha?" Mark asked pleasantly, the cordiality seeming strangely chilling to Sasha in his anxious state. He gulped as Mark smiled at him, suddenly wishing he hadn't asked Kim to get Payson and Becca out of the house so he could talk to Mark privately.

Now Kim Keeler was not a stupid woman and she had immediately caught on to his reason for wanting a private audience with her husband. She had cooed with delight even as Sasha tried to hush her and keep the news between the two of them. Kim nodded and smiled knowingly as she took her daughters out on an errand, thus leaving Sasha alone with Mark Keeler and no witnesses.

Mark was similarly, not an idiot. He was an observant manner – particularly when it came to his daughters – and he'd noted Sasha's behaviour for the last month or so, and what it foretold. Of course, that knowledge didn't mean he was going to make this moment easy for Sasha, as this was probably the only chance he'd have to put the fear of god into his eldest daughter's boyfriend and future fiancé.

"Mr Keeler," Sasha began awkwardly, almost choking on his own saliva. "I'd like to . . . I mean, what I . . . if you don't . . . can, I mean, would you . . ."

Mark smirked a little at seeing the normally calm and collected younger man in such a state. "I'm going to stop you right there, Sasha," he said in a chilling tone, raising his hand to stop Sasha's attempts at speech. "I think I know where this is going," he said, narrowing his eyes. Sasha nodded his head, confirming that Mark was right about his purpose.

"There's a process to these things," Mark continued sternly, "and before I can even consider as suitable for my daughter, I need you to fill out this application," he said firmly as he laid a small pile of paper on the table.

"Excuse me?" Sasha asked, thinking he was having some sort of bad dream.

"I need you to fill out the application," Mark answered straightforwardly. "Shall we come back to this, say, tomorrow afternoon?" he asked breezily.

Sasha just nodded blankly, too stunned to argue.

"Good," Mark nodded. "We'll talk more Tuesday."

* * *

With the rest of the household soundly asleep, Sasha sat at the kitchen table with a pen in hand and the application spread about before him.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered, brushing a page away in frustration. "I'm not going to let him intimidate me into playing his stupid game," he muttered, as he stood to his feet, ready to walk away.

"Unless he's serious," he thought aloud, suddenly remembering that Mark _was_ in human resources. He was back in his seat in seconds, pen in hand once more. "What if he means it and he's really not going to consider it until I fill in the application."

He groaned as realization hit him. If he wanted to marry Payson, then he had no choice but to comply with anything her father saw fit. A ridiculous application (with an essay portion) was actually quite tame compared to what he had been expecting, and if this was what it to be able to marry the love of his life, then so be it.

* * *

**APPLICATION TO MARRY MY DAUGHTER (REVOCABLE AT ANY TIME)  
NOTE: This application will be incomplete and rejected unless accompanied by a complete financial statement, job history, driving record, lineage, character references, and current certified medical report (including drug tests) from your doctor.**

**NAME: _Alexandru Dmitrescu Belov  
_DOB: _September 1, 1982_**

He cringed a little as he wrote his year of birth, knowing that this went against him in terms of his application. His hope was that Mark might be impressed by the fact that he didn't try to hide it.

**HEIGHT: _6'1"  
_WEIGHT: _About 190  
_IQ SCORE: _130  
_Highest level of EDUCATION: _A-Levels: Calculus, English Literature, History, Physics, and French_**

Another point against him, he realized, although he did try to emphasise that he'd done quite well in school. Five A-levels was quite a big deal, although he wasn't sure that Mark would know that.

**PROFESSION: _Gymnastics Coach_  
How long have you had this JOB? _On and off for the last fifteen years_  
When do you expect a PROMOTION? _When Ellen Beals jumps of a cliff_  
SOCIAL SECURITY #  
DRIVER'S LICENSE  
BOY SCOUT RANK  
HOME ADDRESS**

Well, that section was reasonably straightforward. Nothing in it that could have been held against him.

**Please state your intentions towards my daughter? _I intend to marry her and make her as happy as she's made me (with your permission)._**

**Do you have one MALE and one FEMALE parent? If no, please explain.**

Did he mean currently?

**PARENTS' NAMES: _Dmitru Draculescu Belov_ AND _Gwenyfhar Katherine Belov (nee Elias)_  
Number of years your parents have been married (if this is less than your age, please explain): _18 years, although they were separated at the time of my mother's death_**

**Do you own (if the answer is 'yes' to any of these questions, please consider your application denied and leave the premises):  
A van?  
A truck with oversized tyres or cargo bed? _I'm pretty sure the cargo bed only comes in one size_  
A waterbed?  
A trailer or caravan? _Um . . . what's your definition of 'own'?  
_Motorcycle?  
Colour altered hair?  
Tattoo or piercing?**

**In 50 words or less, what does LATE mean to you? **

If he was a younger man, he probably would have taken the piss out of this section and come up with some witty response, and maybe even gotten away with it. However, this was far too serious to risk and so he came up with the diplomatic answer of "something your daughter should never be" instead.

**What does DO NOT TOUCH MY DAUGHTER mean to you?**

He frowned a little at the question. He was pretty sure that Mark wasn't so naïve as to believe that he and Payson were living together in Washington and not having an intimate relationship. He even thought that them sharing a room here in Boulder somehow showed Mark's acceptance of that, and conveyed those thoughts in his answer.

**_In front of you_**

**What does the word DIVORCE mean to you? _The end of an unhappy union, therefore, I believe it will never apply to myself and Payson._**

**What does the word CELIBACY mean to you? **

He smiled – this question he could safely be clever about without risking certain rejection.

**_The word celibacy is often confused with abstinence, which means to refrain from something (usually sex). A person who is unwed (for religious reasons) is celibate, but seeing as I wish to marry your daughter, I do not consider it to have any meaning to myself._**

**Baptized RELIGION: _Romanian Orthodox Church, but I have no strong feelings about it if you wish to have a Catholic ceremony_**

**How often do you attend? _I think the average is very close to 0 _/Week**

**Please attach a letter of character from you priest/pastor confirming attendance.  
_NOTE: I have not attended mass since I was about fourteen and I suspect that my priest/pastor may be dead_**

**When would be the best time to interview:  
Your mother? _Do you know a good median?  
_Your father? _Mornings are usually good for him, but bear in mind that Bucharest is about 9 hours ahead.  
_Your parole officer? _N/A_  
Psychologist/Therapist? _N/A_  
Former teacher? _Home schooled, see above  
_Former or present colleague? _Whenever is good for your wife_**

_'So much for not being a smart ass?'_ he thought as he read back over his last set of answers. In his (unconvincing) defence, anything religious always made him a little bit snarky and the generic nature of the questions wasn't really helping his rancour.

**With whom was your last significant relationship before dating my daughter? **

Sasha cringed and replied, "**_I_****_'d rather not say_**".

**Why did this relationship end? _Don't take this the wrong way, but I think it had a lot to do with Payson kissing me . . . which was honestly completely innocent at the time._**

**Do you still have feelings for this person? _No. I love Payson and I have never felt so strongly about anyone in my life as I do about Payson. She is the only woman I want to be with for the rest of my life._**

He was pretty sure he was laying it on a little thick there, but he was also sure that even Mark knew about him and MJ and he wanted to assure Mark that there weren't any lingering feelings for anyone, whether it be Summer Van Horne or MJ Martin.

**What would this person have to say about you if questioned? _Probably only good things, but I wouldn't trust her on any of them._**

**What do you consider qualifies you for this 'position'? _The fact that we love each other? _**

**What talents/knowledge do you bring to the relationship? _Do you really want me to answer this?_**

He thought about it for a moment and decided that Mark probably didn't even want him to say that much, and so crossed out his previous answer, making it impossible to read. It was much safer just to leave that one blank.

**What is your philosophy towards marriage? _It will take a lot of hard work, but with the right person, it will be rewarding_**

**Why do you wish to marry my daughter? _Because I want to build a life with her_**

**For what reason do you seek permission to marry my daughter? _It's the right thing to do, and I think it's only fair, as I'd expect any man wanting to marry my own daughter to go through the same thing._**

**IF I approve your application, where do you intend to live? _Presently, either Seattle or Boulder, but it will depend a lot on what Payson wants to do when she finishes next year._**

**IF approved, how long do you intend the marriage to last? _Forever_**

**Complete this sentence: On my honeymoon I intend to . . . _spend every moment of it with Payson._**

**If I ever hurt _Payson_ I would . . . _never forgive myself and spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to her if she let me._**

**If I ever hurt _Payson_ I would completely understand if you shot me in the:  
Head  
Heart  
Genitals  
Eye  
Other: _All of the above_**

**IF this application is approved, within how many years of marriage can my wife expect grandchildren? _I'm hoping one or two._**

**Will you have a bachelor party? _No?_**

**If this application is NOT approved, what will be your next step? _Beg you to reconsider, and if that doesn't work, book two tickets to Vegas and marry your daughter in front of an Elvis impersonator. Consider yourself thusly warned._**

**Fill in the blanks:  
If I was shot, the last place in my body I would want to be wounded is my _hands_  
If I was beaten, the last bone I would want broken is my _ribs_  
A women's place is in the _arms of the person who loves her_**

Yes it was corny, but what else was he supposed to write there?

**The one thing I hope this application does not ask me about is _too late for that_**

It had already asked about past relationships, although thankfully in limited detail.

**When I meet a girl the first thing I notice is**

Again he thought it was probably in his best interest not to answer that question.

**I SWEAR THAT ALL THE INFORMATION ABOVE IS TRUE AND CORRECT TO THE BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE UNDER PENALTY OF DEATH, DISMEMBERMENT, NATIVE AMERICAN ANT TORTURE, CRUCIFIXION, ELECTROCUTION, CHINESE WATER TORTURE, AND IMPALEMENT ON RED HOT POKERS.**

**SIGNED**

**_A. Belov_**

"Sasha?" the soft voice of his future fiancée (he hoped) asked as he signed his name upon the last page. "Are you okay? I woke up and you weren't there."

"I'm fine, love," he said, immediately leaving his seat so he could wrap his arms around her. "I was just trying to get through some paper work."

She shook her head at him, admonishing him playfully. "I don't think any paper work could be so important so as not to wait until morning."

She smiled lightly and, before he realized what she was doing, she shifted from his arms and moved closer to the table in order to see what had him up at such ungodly hours. She already had a sheet of the paper in her hands as he called out her name in distress, but it was already too late to stop her from seeing it.

"What's this?" she asked, gaping as her eyes flicked between him and the page in her hands.

"It's nothing," he tried to backtrack. "Just a joke between me and your dad." He looked almost heart broken, knowing already that there was no talking his way out of it.

"Do you mean it?" she said, frowning a little.

"I don't know, it depends what page you've got," he sighed in defeat.

"Do you want to marry me, Sasha?" she asked him seriously.

"Yes," he said. "Are you asking because you want to know if what's on there is true? Or because you want . . . because you . . ." His throat ran dry and he couldn't find the words to finish the sentence.

She smiled warmly. "Alexandru Belov, will you marry me?" she asked him gently, taking a step towards him.

He nodded still unable to find the words. She smiled even brighter and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in for a deep kiss – the first in the new chapter of their relationship.

"I love you," he said, finally finding his voice. "And I can't wait to marry you."

She smiled a watery smile, beaming up at him with joy. "Me neither," she grinned, "although I'm hoping you weren't serious about the Elvis impersonator."

"Of course not, love," he assured her. "I was thinking more of Frank Sinatra impersonator anyway."

~ FIN ~

Slight blow to Sasha's pride there. Perhaps I should add something on the end about Sasha realizing that Payson was the one who proposed, although he probably wouldn't care all that much I suppose.

On other, unrelated notes, I'm gonna try and build the previous drabble into it's own story so I have a bit more freedom than one chapter to go into how Sasha and Payson got together. We'll see how it goes inspiration wise and work from there.

* * *

**Translations:**

_Gwenyfhar_: Gaelic spelling of Guinevere_._

**Notes:**

As always, I have promoted Romanian patronymics to Russian patronymics. Russian patronymics are an official part of a person's name and usually serve as a middle name. Romanian patronymics are a source of many common Romanian surnames, such as - just as an example - Dragulescu. I think maybe I'm supposed to write Draculescu that way, but wasn't really sure so left it as is in case the 'g' was something that had simply evolved in the surname.


	8. Crazy In Love April 2018

**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

**

* * *

**

Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

* * *

**Crazy In Love**

Sasha didn't understand women. There were times when he thought he had them all figured out, and then something would happen to just throw him off completely and prove once again that he had no idea what he was doing when it came to women generally, and one woman in particular.

His wife, of course, was the prime example of this. When he first met Payson, he'd foolishly presumed that she was simple and uncomplicated. He thought he had cleverly discovered everything that there was to know about Payson Keeler and that he understood the emotions and thought processes that went along with a career ending injury and a remarkable comeback. Which is why he hadn't seen the kiss coming until he was already caught in the moment and kissing her back in that half a second before he realized how wrong it was.

Well, not wrong exactly. That was obviously too strong a word – as evidenced by the fact that they'd been married now for almost two years. More . . . unseemly. It was just bad timing really. Their relationship had inevitably progressed to the same point just three years later, only by that time he hadn't the will or inclination to push her away.

The point was that most of the time Sasha had absolutely no idea what was going on in Payson's head. This wasn't usually a problem because his wife was understanding, sensible, and patient. She usually humoured him to some degree and let him believe he had at least little bit of nonce when it came to the fairer sex. She didn't usually lock herself in their bedroom screaming irrational obscenities at him every time he tried to talk to her merely because he'd grabbed plain flour instead of self-raising flour when he stopped to pick up some groceries after work.

Like an idiot he tried to reason with her. "Love, I'm sure it'll be fine," he insisted through the door. "We've got baking soda or baking powder or whatever it is and it's not like you can't adjust the recipe to suit it." Payson's response was an unexpected high-pitch screed of information that let him know that it wasn't about the self-raising flour at all and that if he didn't know what she was upset about then she wasn't going to tell him.

"Pay, love," he tried again. "I'm sorry," he said resorting to the best defence in his arsenal. He had absolutely no idea what he was sorry for and the only clue she had given him over the last hour and a half was that it had nothing to do with the flour, but he was pretty sure that he was sorry about it.

There was complete silence on the other side of the door before he suddenly heard the lock mechanism clicking out of place. The door finally opened and Payson stood in front of him with her arms firmly crossed and her eyes puffy with spent tears. She wore his clothes – an old Huskies sweatshirt and a pair of plaid pyjama pants that pooled around her feet – and her hair was a bedraggled mess, but she had never looked more beautiful to him.

"What are you sorry for?" she asked him stonily.

"I don't know," he admitted honestly. "I'm sorry because I made you cry even if I don't know why."

Her stony facade crumbled with his words and she tried to cover her face as her body heaved with dry sobs that she couldn't seem to control.

"Oh god, Pay, I'm sorry," he said again, wrapping his arms tightly around her and pulling her close. She sobbed into his chest, burying her face into his chest and letting her tears soak through to the fabric of her shirt. "Please don't cry, _scumpa mea_. I never meant to make you cry."

"I don't know why I'm crying," Payson sobbed loudly, the confession only making her cry harder. "And I don't know why I'm angry at you. And that only makes me angrier and sadder and now look at me - I'm a mess."

"No, _e__şti_ frumos," Sasha disagreed. "You're always beautiful, love. You're the most beautiful mess I've ever seen."

She sent him a grateful wet smile, lifting her head from his chest. She sniffed loudly to try and hold back the tears, and even managed something almost but not quite like a laugh. "You're only saying that because you're a man and you're bad at this emotional stuff," she told him.

"I'm saying it because I love you," he assured her firmly. "You're always beautiful to me, Payson.

"Now what's wrong, love?" he asked, gently lifting her chin as she tried to hide her head against his frame once again.

"I don't know," she replied, her tears ceasing for the moment. "I just feel awful and everything is making me so emotional - I threw a shoe at the TV because I didn't like tomorrows weather predictions for Florida and I don't even care about Florida. And then there was this girl," she said, suddenly getting teary over the feel good story, but desperately trying not to cry, "and she raised money for h-her school s-so they could have a school pet.

"And then you didn't get home until six," in full-blown sobs once again. "I was all alone and all I could think about was the girl and the school pet, and I thought what if they get a cat but there's a kid that's allergic to the cat and they won't be able to play with the cat. It was so sad and you weren't there," she said accusingly, pointedly jabbing his chest and shifting away a little. She took two quick gasps, practically hyperventilating as she thought of the one kid in the school who couldn't play with a cat that might not even exist.

"Pay, this isn't like you," he said softly, trying his best to understand what was happening to his sweet, rational wife.

"What do you mean it's not like me?" she asked him darkly, sadness fading to anger in an instant. He was almost grateful for the change - mad-Payson he could deal with but sad-Payson always left him feeling like the lowliest being on the planet and he would do anything in his power to make things right.

"Um . . . Pay, love," he said cautiously. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I . . . I think you might be pregnant."

She glared at him for a few moment before collapsing into his chest. "Oh thank god," she said she squeezed her arms around his middle. "I was starting to think there was something seriously wrong with me."

"You're gonna start crying again, aren't you?" he cringed. She nodded against his chest, doing her best to hold the emotional display at bay for his sake.

"I'm sorry," she said weakly.

"Don't be," he instructed, lifting her head back up so he could meet her gaze. "We're having a baby, Pay," he said with a broad smile. She returned the grin, his smile infectious and almost enough to soak up her tears.

"We're having a baby," she repeated. "I'm so happy," she sobbed.

Sasha just held her close and rubbed comforting circles into her back.

He hoped - for his sanity's sake - they were having a boy.

~ FIN ~

Sasha's not quite ready to deal with two completely nonsensical women in his life. And what an emotionally trying way to find out you're gonna be a dad.

Let me know what you think.

* * *

**Translations:**

_Esti frumos: you're beautiful  
Scumpa mea_: my dear

**Notes:**

For some reason the school cat made me think of schrodinger's cat. Perhaps because it is only a hypothetical/theoretical cat that we're talking about.


	9. Lettres DAmour August 2016

**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

* * *

Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

* * *

**Lettres D'amour**

_Dear Sasha Belov,_

_My name is Payson Keeler and I am six and I live in Saint Paul, Minnesota. That's in AMERICA. That's really far away from where you live, but that ok! (smiley face sun)_

_Is Sasha your real name? My mama said boys don't usually get called Sasha. I should probably know your real name seeing as we are going to be married._

_I do gymnastics too, but I'm not allowed to do some of them because those are only for boys. I wanted to do the one with the rings like you did, but my coach said only boys are allowed to do the one with the rings. I'm allowed to do the uneven bars. I can do hip cirlces and I can do handstands, and I can even do them on one hand like you did at the Olympics. I hope I can be as good as you when I go to the Olympics. _

_Did you start gymnastics when you were my age? I bet you were really good then too! (smiley face sun) And I bet your coach let you go on everything, not just the boy ones. Like the beam. I don't really like beam. I like uneven bars the best of all._

_I think after the Olympics we should open a gym and we could let people go on anything, so that the boys could do beam if they like and the girls could do the one with the rings. And even if they just wanted to do the boy ones or the girl ones that would be okay too, but girls should be able to do all of the ones even if they're not boys. All the boys I know are bad at them and fall off all the time and I think if I did the one with the rings then I wouldn't fall off all the time like they did._

_You were really good on the one with the rings. You didn't fall off anything at the Olympics. Not even the horse one like the other people did. And you did a handspring in your vault. I did a handspring on floor and it's my favourite floor move. And you flipped three times! Did that take you a long time to learn how to flip three times? _

_Thanks you for reading my letter._

_Have a nice day! (smiley face sun)_

_Love from,_

_Payson Keeler_

* * *

Payson cringed and tried to cover her face as her mother read out the letter to a room filled with her closest friends and family, all of them guffawing at her obvious embarrassment.

"Mom, why do you even still have that?" she groaned, shaking her head.

"This is one of the drafts," Kim replied with a smile. "You wanted to make sure the letter was perfect before you sent it to Sasha."

"This is so humiliating," she said painfully. "If I'd known something like that existed, I would have burnt it," she warned darkly.

"I think it's adorable, Payson," Kaylie cooed brightly. "I mean, you were only six and Sasha had just beaten everyone, so of course you had a crush on him."

"And decided you were going to marry him," Lauren cackled. "Like Sasha had no choice in the matter. I guess he didn't really."

"Did he write back?" Emily asked, trying to imagine the look on a teenaged Sasha's face when he received such a letter from one of his fans. It was actually a pretty ordinary letter and exactly what you would have expected Payson to write to one of her gymnastics idols, except for the sly lines thrown in almost innocently about their future plans.

"I remember he did, but I haven't been able to find it," Kim said with a sigh. She was slightly suspicious of that fact, and suspected Payson might have done to Sasha's letter what she threatened to do with her own. "He never really addressed the marriage proposal."

"I wouldn't exactly call it a marriage proposal," Becca laughed. "It was more of an announcement."

"Look I was six," Payson cried in her defence, "and obsessed with the Olympics and I thought I was going to be the greatest gymnast in the World and that obviously meant to me that I was going to marry Sasha. You can't hold it against me."

"Oh, Pay, you know we're just teasing," her mother said sympathetically. "It's what hen's nights are for."

"I bet nobody's teasing Sasha at his bachelor party," she muttered sulkily in reply.

Kim gave a snort of amusement. "With your dad there I can guarantee at least one person is giving him a hard time.

"Now," Kim said, pulling out another letter, "this one's from after Sasha's reply."

* * *

_He was nearly eighteen years old and flipping through his fan mail like the pathetic has been he was – unable to do gymnastics anymore, he relived his glory by scanning through these letters and remembering for a moment how he used to be somebody important._

_As he steadily made his way through them, discarding the many leery photos irrespective of whether they were male or female, he eventually came to one marked with a yellow post-it note and scrawled with Nikolai's handwriting. It wasn't unusual for him to find letters marked in this way – Nikolai had always screened his fan mail (removing the dirty photos until he was of age) and left notes on those that required his attention. Those notes just didn't usually consist of the words 'I think you will like this one' followed by an exclamation mark and a smiley face turned into a sun._

_And Nikolai was right. How could he not like a girl so sure in herself that she told him outright, without any need for his approval, that they were going to be married and that she'd be going to the Olympics herself – presumably in 2012. How could he not like a girl so put out by the fact that she wasn't allowed to do the same events as the boys even though she would obviously be much better at them then they were (if you accepted 'not falling' as a suitable benchmark). A girl who knew exactly what she wanted and was sure that she could get it._

_How could he not want to marry this same girl less than fifteen years later?_

_As strange as it might sound, he fell in love a little with Payson Keeler that day – with this stubborn, determined, headstrong girl with an unmatchable will._

_And he wrote back. He told her that his real name was 'Alexandru' and that he didn't like beam much either, even though he'd never actually done much beaming personally. He liked the parallel bars best for men and floor for women. He told her he was impressed by how far she'd gotten on the uneven bar at only six – seven by the time he wrote back. He told her he'd started gymnastics when he was four with his dad as his coach and that he'd spent a year working on the double front salto with two and a half twists that she had referred to as 'three flips'._

_He told her a lot more than he intended to, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her that they probably wouldn't get married and they probably wouldn't open a gym after the Olympics._

_Who was he to dash those dreams? To break her heart?_

_And more to the point._

_She was right in the end. _

~ FIN ~

This has sort of been nagging at me to be written for a while. I just like the idea that Payson probably had a crush on Sasha after Sydney. And as a precocious little six year old that is quite certain that she's going to be the best gymnast in the world, because she likes Sasha and because he's the best gymnast in the world, that automatically means to her that they're going to be married, even if he is eleven years older than her and living in a different country.

* * *

**Translations:**

No Romanian - sigh.

But . . . the title is French for Love Letters.

**Notes:**


	10. Daddy's Little Angel 2038

A/N: So this drabble jumps forward _significantly - _adding to the complete lack of chronology, but drabbles aren't meant to be chronological. And by significantly I mean about thirteen years given that it sort of revolves around a third child that didn't exist in any of the previous drabbles except for as a glimmer in her daddy's eye. Thus it puts Sasha and Payson in their fifties and forties, and Dru in college (Michigan) and Caitlin at about fifteen/sixteen. I think I originally planned for there to be four kids in total, but I've suddenly decided that three is good number.

Now on with the drabble . . .

**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

* * *

Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

* * *

**Daddy's Little Angel**

Sasha was snoozing lightly on the couch when he felt a warm weight rest upon his shoulder. He opened one eye and turned his head slightly to glance incredulously at his youngest child – his auburn-haired baby-girl, Daciana.

"Hi, _Tătic_," the twelve year old greeted brightly, giving him more reason to be incredulous. Daciana was always bright and bubbly – her temperament reminded him a lot of Kim and Becca, and even his own mother to a small part – but such enthusiasm was at extremes even for her.

"What are you after, Daci?" he asked gently, opening both his eyes and shifting slightly to a more comfortable position.

Daciana shifted with him, her hands on his shoulder and her chin resting on her hands. It put her in the perfect position to send him her most angelic expression. Her eyes – the same mixture of blue, green, and grey that her mother possessed – were opened as wide as possible and glistening in the light. Her nose – which she shared with his mother – was scrunched in concern, and her lips – his lips rather than the fuller lips of her mother and sister – pulled into a definite pout.

"What do you mean, _Tătic_?" she asked, blinking innocently.

Sasha scoffed. "You know your mother has almost the exact same expression when she's trying to trick me into doing the washing up," he noted, raising an eyebrow challengingly as she continued to feign innocence.

"Daddy," she admonished. "That isn't a very nice thing to say about _Mami_. You probably don't want that to get back to her."

The sound that Sasha made in response was a mixture between a scoff and a laugh of sorts. He sat up, lifting Daciana with him so that she was seated on the empty couch seat beside him. "Are you trying to blackmail me now, Munchkin?" he asked half-sternly, half-amusedly, tossling her hair into her eyes.

"No," she insisted seriously, patting at her hair. "I was just . . . _Mami_ said that I could go to the movies later, but only if you said it was okay first," she explained quickly.

"Can I go, _Tătic_?" she asked, turning her expression pitiful once again.

And he was back to suspicion, giving his daughter a cautionary look. "Whose going?" he asked, his over-protective father instincts kicking in – instincts he'd honed in over the years, particularly due to Caitlin who was, despite taking after her mother in so many respects, incredibly troublesome.

"Just some people from the gym, Daddy," she insisted. "It's just . . . Vincent Ryder said that he could come pick me up – well, his sister – seeing as we live so close.

"_Vă rugăm Pot să mă duc, Tătic_?" she asked in her sweetest voice, playing on one of her father's most vulnerable weaknesses. Her older sister had taught her well.

"Vincent's sister Margaret is going to be there the whole time," she added, looking downright desperate now. "And Priya and Christie are going to be there too and heaps of other people. And we're going to watch a documentary so we'll be learning – "

"What'd you say about Maggie?" Dru suddenly interrupted, appearing out of nowhere.

"Apparently she's supervising your baby sister's date," Sasha responded drolly, lifting an eyebrow at Dru's sudden interest in one of his elite gymnasts.

"It's not a date," Daciana promised. "We're just going to the movies and Maggie was just going to pick me up on the way."

"I can chaperone, Dad," Dru offered, more or less ignoring Daciana's denial. "I'll take Dee there and stay with her, and bring her home at a reasonable hour when they're done."

Sasha's eyes narrowed, but Dru's offer had more or less forced his concession. "You'll take your mother's car," he demanded, not giving Dru the sort of leeway that would land his baby-girl on the back of her brother's motorcycle – Dru tended to take after him in some of the worst possible ways, at least in the eyes of an overprotective father who now had his own past recklessness thrown back at him. "And you'll stay at least five kilometres under the speed limit. And you'll bring your sister home by nine – _at the latest_."

_"Da, Tată_," Dru uttered with an indulgent grin.

"Thank you, Daddy," Daciana gasped excitedly, her eyes bright as she wrapped her arms around him tightly and kissed his cheek. "I have to go get ready," she said as she bounced off the couch and towards her room.

"You know, the Ryder twerp isn't so bad," Dru offered reassuringly once Daciana was out of earshot. "Although if he tries to pull a move on my baby sister I'm going to dislocate his shoulder," he promised darkly.

"Good," Sasha said firmly, his lips quirking into a small smile.

He was glad to see that Dru had taken after him in that respect, and not just in his penchant for fast cars and blonde gymnasts.

~ FIN ~

I had the strange urge to write something with a grown up Dru. That and I guess the amusing thought of seeing Sasha deal with his children all-growed-up resulted in this strangely Payson-less drabble.

* * *

**Translations:**

_Tătic:_ Daddy  
_Mami_: Mummy  
_Vă rugăm Pot să mă duc, Tătic_?: Please can I go, Daddy?  
_Da, Tată: _Yes, Dad.

**Notes:**


	11. My Favourite Things September 2013

A/N: And now we jump back in the other direction with a UW drabble. I'm still sort of working on turning the UW arc into its own story, but in the meantime you get this drabble - it's shippy if you squint.

**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

* * *

Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

* * *

**My Favourite Things**

Seattle was having an unusually wet summer, which wasn't something that Payson minded all that much. Rain was a good thing after all, and even if it left the skies all grey and overcast, she loved the way that everything seemed to shimmer after the rain was gone.

For most, it was considered a drab start to the semester. She'd exited her first lecture to find the sky looking dreary and things hadn't gotten better from there. By the time she finished classes for the day, it was raining heavily, and most of the students were ducking between shelters trying to keep themselves dry.

She shivered a little at the slight chill in the air and turned up the collar on her trench coat as she braved the wet weather, tucking her hair into a simple black beret. One of the first things she had learnt about Seattle's weather was that there was no point trying to put up an umbrella – Seattle wasn't known as the "Windy City" for nothing – and she had immediately invested in a durable, waterproof trench coat that would keep her dry even in the worst downpour.

After a fast paced walk across campus, she made her way to the college gymnasium and home of the 'Gym Dawgs'. Sasha was waiting outside for her in the sheltered entryway, a decimated umbrella lying on the ground beside him, looking like it had been thrown there in a fit of fury. He glared belligerently at the weather, which only confirmed her 'fit of fury' related suspicions.

"Hey!" she greeted brightly, paying no heed to the heavy drops of rain falling around her. "I suppose you just learnt that an umbrella is no match for The Windy City," she teased, nodding towards the tangled mess of metal and waterproof nylon.

Sasha didn't appreciate the humour and continued to look sour. "Isn't it supposed to be summer?" he asked darkly.

"It's been unseasonably wet this year," she shrugged in reply. "For someone who grew up in London, you seem strangely unaccustomed to rain in august."

"I don't like rain," he replied simply with a petulant expression that no man of his age should have been capable of.

"Oh poor, Sasha," she teased, unable to restrain her smile as he continued to pout at the bad weather. "Here," she said and pulled her beret from her own head and pulled it down over his ears. "Now your hair won't get messed up.

"Now hurry up," she commanded, stepping out into the rain and not caring at all that her own hair was soaked and hanging around her face in drenched tendrils. "You promised me lunch, remember?"

And so he laughed as he took her in, drenched and smiling as the rain poured down around her. And he realized that the rain wasn't really all that bad.

~ FIN ~

* * *

**Translations:**

**Notes:**


	12. Tricks and Treats October 2025

A/N: I've created a master list for this story on LJ so you can see how everything fits together chronologically. There are two extra stories on there, which I haven't put up yet. I'm waiting to see if FF fixes itself, because _Alphabet_ in particular is a formatting nightmare if I have to try and do it in html.

**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

Tricks and Treats

It was Alexandru's first real experience of Halloween. And Caitlin's too, in as much as a two year old could experience Halloween.

Sasha didn't really understand the point of it all, as there wasn't much a Halloween tradition in either of his heritages. Halloween in Romania was more for the adults than for the children, with people holding extravagant Western-style parties with elaborate costumes.

The English had a few traditions, but those could hardly be regarded as being of the same calibre as American trick-or-treating. He had bobbed for apples as a child at his grandfather's house in Cardiff. He had not gone door-to-door dressed as his favourite superhero begging for candy.

And to make matters worse, they lived right next door to one of _those_ houses. The ones who went completely over the top, and turned their house into a light display visible from outer space. He hadn't been able to get "This Is Halloween" out of his head for days.

"You're pouting," Payson accused affectionately without glancing in his direction.

"I'm not pouting," he replied sulkily, following behind her as she perused the vast array of Halloween attire. "It's an affront to my culture," he added, verging upon dramatic.

Payson scoffed, shaking her head as she moved in to take a closer look at a prospective costume. "It's no more of an affront than Uncle Luca's Halloween party," she said drolly. "He served Turkish delights on sticks and called them 'shits kebabs'."

Sasha sniggered a little at the clever pun (one that relied upon the word for shit - in the sense of meaning poor quality, trifling or cheap - in Romanian, also being the word for Turkish delight), but quieted as Payson turned and gave him a dry look. Apparently the joke was in bad taste when gauged by an American sense of humour, and he'd gotten in a bit of trouble when Sandu decided to ask, in front of her parents, whether they would be having "shits kebabs again this year".

"It doesn't translate properly," he said in defence of his favourite uncle.

"You showed up as Dracula," she deadpanned, standing up straight and putting her hands on her hips.

"Everyone showed up as Dracula," he replied. "It was vampire-themed party in Bucharest." As though that in itself explained everything.

She rolled her eyes, giving him an affectionate tap on the cheek. "Stop complaining," she said simply. "You know Sandu's been looking forward to this. Are you really going to deny your son his first trick-or-treating experience?"

Sasha sighed and shook his head, knowing she had him on that one. "I'm not wearing a costume," he told her, trying to hold on to the last vestige of his authority.

"Yes, you are."

-

"And who are you supposed to be?" the kindly older woman at the door asked, bending down to eye level with his son.

Sandu beamed up at her, unfolding the 3-D glasses in his hand and putting them on with the sort of flourish he only could have learnt from Austin Tucker, Mr Cobalt himself. "I'm the Doctor," Sandu replied with a grin, imitating his father's accent as best he could despite the fact that his father didn't actually sound anything like _any_ of the thirteen Doctors and certainly not like the wild-haired, pinstripe wearing Doctor he was currently portraying.

The woman, Mrs Witters from five houses down, who was evidently not a sci-fi fan, eyed him curiously, looking for his stethoscope and the typical doctor embellishments. Sandu continued, oblivious to her confusion. "These are my companions," he said, waving to his father and sister. "Cati and Tată.

"And this is the TARDIS," he added, holding up the specially procured candy bag in TARDIS blue with 'Police Box' written around the rim. "It's dimensionally transcendental." He said the last part slowly, but with a proud smile at his ability to say the impressively long phrase, even if, at six (nearly seven), he still wasn't quite sure what that meant except to say that the TARDIS was 'bigger on the inside'.

Mrs Witters just continued to look at him blankly before simply giving up and providing him with two candy bars in lieu of further explanation. Sandu grinned brightly and thanked the woman before darting back down the garden path with a exuberant, "Allons-y!" rendered by Romania pronunciation, which Sasha suspected probably had an impact upon its meaning.

"She looks absolutely adorable," Mrs Witters cooed, holding out her arms for Caitlin. Sasha glanced over his shoulder, checking to see that Sandu hadn't tried to go off without them – again. Due to his fathering of the cutest little girls in the neighbourhood, they'd been delayed that little bit longer at most of the houses so that the older women could coo over his eldest daughter, dressed this evening as a ridiculously adorable ladybird beetle. Sandu had, luckily, been intercepted by another of their neighbours and was talking with the twins from further down the street at the gate.

"She gets more and more like you every time I see her," Mrs Witters told him, stroking the two-year-old's downy cheek.

Sasha smiled, pride lighting up his features. "I take that as the ultimate compliment," he said warmly. "Although, I don't see it myself."

"It takes a neutral eye," Mrs Witters said simply, knowing from his smile that it was wife he saw in their little girl and not himself. "How's Payson and the new bubby?" she asked incidentally.

"They're both good," he replied simply. "Resting."

She smiled, about to press further when Sandu impatiently called, "_Haide,Tată,"_ from the road.

"Patience, Sandu," he called back in Romanian, not truly admonishing his son who had been incredibly patient at the first few houses this occurred at, but less so now as concerns over the supply of candy took hold. Mrs Witters handed back the adorably attired Caitlin while sending an indulgent smile towards Sandu as she bid them goodbye.

"Love the costume, by the way," she added with a grin.

Sasha grimaced, scolding himself internally for the lapse in memory. He'd let himself momentarily forget that his wife was an absolute sadist and that he was currently roaming the streets of a neighbourhood _he had to live in_ dressed as what Payson had considered the only appropriate costume to match his ladybird daughter and Doctor son. And so tonight he was dressed in a tight black leather suit, his hair styled with massive amounts of gel and augmented by fake sideburns that Payson had taken great pleasure in adhering to his face. He was just glad she'd gone for the 1968 Comeback, rather than Vegas-era.

Forcing a smile, he did the only thing he could do in the situation to save face. He curled his lip, he shook his hips, and he attempted the only American accent he knew how to pull off with some consistency and uttered six words, perfectly parsed.

"Thank you. Thank you very much."

~FIN~

**Notes:**

I wanted to get this one ready for Halloween, but it just wouldn't do what I wanted. Strangely, the thing that seemed to hold it up was deciding what costume to put Sasha in. I was originally just going to dress him as a prince, but The King made a far better costume. And I did take pity on him, going for leather rather than spandex and rhinestones.

The Turkish Delights on sticks is a reference to Vlad the Impaler - that's what he did to Turks, which was apparently a very offensive way of killing people. Câcat, which is also the word for Turkish Delight in Romanian, also means 'shit', but not really in the bodily functions way. It's more of a "I can't believe you spent $100 on this piece of shit" sort of way. Either way I'm pretty sure it'd be offensive, and that's probably exactly the sort of thing that earned Uncle Luca the position of favourite uncle.

**Translation:**

**Allons-y:** Let's Go (French). Tenth Doctor's catchphrase.

_**Haide,Tată: **_Come on/Let's go, Dad (Romanian)


	13. Alphabet August 2024

A/N: I suspect that I did not think this drabble through before I started writing it. I decided I was going to be clever and write twenty-six letters (thus the title), but didn't actually realize until I was up to number twenty that you guys probably won't want to read twenty-six letters. Except by that point I had already written twenty letters, so it was too late to go back.

So this one is set around the time that Alexandru/Sandu/Dru started school and while Sasha was in Romania. The first part about Romanian testamentary law is obviously something I made up for the sake of the story (apologies to any Romanians reading because it is rather stereotypical and if there are any Romanians reading you should totally say something about my butchering of your language form time to time), but wouldn't it be totally awesome if that was the law somewhere?

.

**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

* * *

Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

* * *

**Alphabet**

In a country as old as Romania, the law is rich in tradition. It was rather beautiful in that respect. The country's history was written into every purchase, every promise, and every social engagement.

And as beautiful as that was, it could also be frustrating. Because for a period of time Romania had been a country wrought with superstition and that, like so much of the country's beautiful and intricate history, was written into the laws that governed human interactions.

One such rule governed inheritance and death dues. By law, the estate of the deceased could not be settled until 60 days after their death. Why? Well in case they needed it, of course. After 60 days a person could be more less certain that their loved one or family member had no intention of rising from the dead and needing the fortune for their own un-dead purposes.

This rule, despite dubious origins, persisted to the ire and chagrin of one Alexandru Dmitrescu Belov, only son of Dmitri Draculescu Belov, both Romanian citizens by birth.

"It will be fine," Payson assured her husband, kissing him gently on the cheek. "It's only three and half weeks."

"Twenty-six days," he corrected sulkily, making her smile in spite of the sombre occasion. Goodbyes always were.

"Sasha," she warned, reading his expression. He was about to make another plea, either for her to stay or him to go, disregarding all their previous discussions on the subject. There were still things he needed to sort here in Romania – things beyond his father's estate including a contract with the Romanian gymnastics body, which didn't lapse until December – and Sandu was due to start school next week and there was urgent work to be done back home. They both had places they needed to be right now, and unfortunately her place was in Seattle and his in Sibiu.

"I love you," she told him, giving him a firmer kiss on the mouth. "We'll write every day and I'll call you as soon as we get home," she promised, her eyes tearing up a little in the build up to the actual goodbye. "It'll be like we haven't even left."

"Except you have," he said. "Stay," he pleaded, sending her a wide-eyed pout.

"Sasha, you know I can't," she sighed. "One of us needs to be there to sort the gym and Sandu's starting school soon and –"

"Then stay 'til the end of the week," he tried again, nowhere near ready to see her gone.

"So you can tempt me into staying another week and then a week after that?" she asked him knowingly, her husband's wilely ways far too familiar to her. "We'll see each other soon," she reminded him. "But until then, we have to go."

Sasha gave a loud, reluctant sigh, conceding the truth. He wrapped his arms around her and gave her one last longing kiss, just barely decent enough for public, and murmured a quiet 'I love you' before squatting down so that he was eye-to-eye with his son.

"You gonna look out for your Mamă and Cati 'til I get back, puiule?" he asked seriously, eyeing the boy protectively. Sandu gave him a wide smile and a determined nod. "Good," he smiled warmly, embracing his son fondly. "I love you, Sandu."

"I love you too, Tată," Sandu replied, burying his tiny blonde head against his father's shoulder.

"And you, baby girl," Sasha uttered in the softest tone, peering into the pram at his youngest child. "I'm gunna miss you, little one," he said sweetly. "Don't do anything important while I'm gone," he warned.

"_Tati te iubeşte, fetiţă_," he told her, kissing her crown.

And so, with one last kiss goodbye, he saw his family through to the departure gates.

* * *

Denver, CO. USA - Sibiu, Romania

_August 25 2024_

_Dear Tată!_

_Mamă is helping me write to you while you are away and she said that I could write the first letter. I am writing this on the airplane. Mamă said we are over the ocean right now, but it's dark so I can't tell, but I'm not tired. Cati is sleeping because she's a baby and she's always tired. She cried when the airplane first started, but she has been asleep since then._

_Mamă and me _("I, Alexandru," Payson corrected patiently, "Mamă and I") _watched a movie about dolphins and then we had dinner and then after that Mamă and I played a game. Mamă wasn't very good and I think she tried to cheat so she could win but I caught her. I think that is why she told me I could write the letter, cos she thought I would forget, but I remembered._

("Sandu, you can't write that."

"Why not, Mamă?" Sandu asked curiously.

"Because . . . oh just pass it here.")

**_I did not cheat. Sandu, just got confused about the rules. So stop looking so smug, so_**_**ţ.**_

_Sorry, Tată. Mamă wanted to write some too. The people on the airplane are really nice and the lady said I could have anything I wanted for dinner. I had soup with animal crackers. And I was good and looked after Mamă like you told me. I made sure she ate all of her vegetables. Even the green ones._

_Love you, Tată._

_From,_

_Alexandru Nicolae Belov_

* * *

Boulder, CO. USA - Sibiu, Romania  
_  
August 26 2024_

_Dear Sasha,_

_I've spent the day catching up with everybody here in Boulder. Mom and Dad say 'hi' of course. As do the girls. They're all doing really well._

_Everybody keeps saying how big Sandu's getting, but I think they're exaggerating. He hasn't grown that much, has he? I suppose we'll know when you get back._

_Caitlin seems to be keeping her promise. She's been very quiet since we got here – not even a gurgle. I think she's getting used to the change of environment and hopefully she'll be back to her usual babbling self in a few days time._

_I'm looking forward to going home. It's hard to believe it's been so long. Everything's probably a complete mess and I just know the place is going to feel empty without you._

_I miss you already, my sweet, and it's only been a couple of days._

_Thinking of you always,_

_Payson_

* * *

Sibiu, Romania - Boulder, CO. USA

_August 27 2024_

_Dear Sandu,_

_I got your letter today and I made sure to write as soon as it arrived. You should tell your Mamă to put it in the priority post next time so I can get it as soon as possible, then you won't have to wait as long. _

_I'm glad you're being such a good boy and looking after your Mamă. She can be so stubborn sometimes, particularly when it comes to her green vegetables. If she doesn't eat them, just let me know and I'll have some strong words with her._

_It sounds like you and Cati are doing well, and I hope you have a good time with your grandparents. Say 'hi' to them for me, puiule. And don't give your grandpa too much cheek. You get that from your mother._

_All my love,_

_Tată_

_P.S. I love you, Pay, even if you do cheat at games. I miss you, scumpa mea, and I promise not to hold your game cheating against you when I get back._

* * *

Seattle, WA. USA - Sibiu, Romania

_August 28 2024_

_Dear Tată!_

_We went on the airplane again today, but this one wasn't as big as last time and it didn't take as long to get there. Last time we went over the ocean but this time we only went over the mountains. Mamă let me sit by the window so I could see out, but it was too cloudy so I didn't see anything until the end._

_Nana and Grandpa came with us and they're going to stay at our house until next week. Nana helped me read your letter because you put some big words in that I didn't know. It made her laugh for ages and ages. Mamă shook her head, but I think she was laughing too._

_Mamă said I'm going to get a new bed and we're going to go shopping tomorrow because I need lots of new stuff for school. I think Cati is going to get some new things too cos she doesn't have her own room yet so we need to buy her stuff so she can have a room. Tonight Mamă said that me and Cati can stay in yours and Mamă's room._

_I think Cati is getting more grown up cos she didn't cry this time when the airplane started and she stayed awake for much longer. Mamă said it was because Cati was sad last time about leaving. Because Cati's never lived here so she didn't know that we were coming home and she thought home was always in Sibiu._

_I think maybe we should have two homes so that Cati isn't sad and we could have home in Romania and home in America. And we could be like the girl in the story with the seeds and spend some of the time in Sibiu and some of the time at home, and it would be winter when we left because the house would be sad, and it would be happy when we come back._

_I think Cati would like that._

_Lots of love, Tată!_

_From,_

_Alexandru Nicolae Belov_

* * *

Seattle, WA. USA - Sibiu, Romania

_August 29 2024_

_Dear Tată!_

_Mamă and I went shopping today and we bought lots and lots of stuff. Nana and Grandpa looked after Cati so it was just me and Mamă and we were out for ages so we could get everything._

_I got a school bag and lots of books. Mamă bought some stuff so she can put bugs all over them. And we got a lunch box with a dragon and a bottle that matched. And Mamă bought me new shoes. The new shoes feel funny and they look strange. I didn't like them, but Mamă said that I have to have them for school. I hid them in my room so Mamă can't find them and make me wear them. _

_Grandpa is helping me write to you and I made him promise that he wouldn't tell Mamă what I wrote so you have to promise too, Tată. Cos I don't like the shoes and I don't want to wear them. Can you tell Mamă that it's okay that I don't wear the shoes? And then I'll let her find them so she can take them back and buy me other shoes._

_Mamă bought Cati a new bed like the one she had at our other house, only this one was made of white wood instead of brown and it didn't have the hanging thingee on it. I think Cati will like this bed better because it's white and I think she must like white more than brown because she's always wearing white._

_My bed won't be here until tomorrow so I get to stay with Mamă again tonight and she promised we'd make up a story together about dragons._

_Love you lots. Miss you, Tată._

_From,_

_Alexandru Nicolae Belov_

* * *

Inbox - New Message from **Wifey**.

_August 30 2024_

_To:_ _s. belov romgym. ro  
From: _p _ keeler es. athletic. com

_I think he might be nervous about starting school. I don't know. He was fine going to kindergarten in Romania. And he's usually pretty good with new things._

_Just remember you didn't hear it from me. I suppose this is just one of these things he needs his dad for._

_I'll talk to you more tonight._

_Love you_  
_xoxo_

_ To: p _ keeler es. athletic. com_  
_ From: __s. belov romgym. ro_

_ Of course. I got his letter this morning and was trying to work out how to go about it when I call later._

_ Is he okay? He sounded upset and it's not like him to be so stubborn about something like this. Especially about something like shoes._

_ To: __s. belov romgym. ro_   
_ From: p _ keeler es. athletic. com_

_ Can you talk to Sandu about his school shoes? He's hidden them with his toys so he won't have to wear them._

* * *

Seattle, WA. USA - Sibiu, Romania

_August 31 2024_

_Dear Sasha,_

_As much as I hate to say it, you were right. He was worried about the shoes because he could wear whatever shoes he liked at kindy and thought that meant everything else would be different too. Once he saw that Sacred Heart wasn't that different from his old school he was back to being excited and even let me know where I could find his school shoes. _

_Strangely, I think seeing the nuns actually made him feel better about starting school. No idea where he got that from – I was scared to death of nuns when I was his age. And with your level of scepticism I can't imagine you ever getting along with the clergy._

_Caitlin's back to her usual self. She's been smiling and laughing a lot and crawling all over the place. Sandu's been giving her impromptu tutorials when needed, considering himself our resident expert on all things Seattle. It's completely adorable and Cati just stares at him with this look of complete awe on her face._

_Mom took a video and I'll send it to you once we get it off the camera._

_I love you so much, and I can't wait for you to get home. Hopefully you find someone soon so there won't be any additional delays._

_Happy Birthday, my sweet._

_Payson xoxo_

* * *

Seattle, WA. USA - Sibiu, Romania

**TO THE WORLD'S BEST DAD**

_September 1 2024_

_Happy Birthday, Tată!_

_From,_

_Alexandru Nicolae Belov_

_and_

_Caitlin __Grațiana Belov_

* * *

Sibiu, Romania - Seattle, WA. USA

_September 2 2024_

_Dear Sandu and Caitlin,_

_Thank you so much for your card and presents. I wore the t-shirt you got me to work today and I think everyone was jealous. It's a little bigger than what I'm used to, but still a very good shirt._

_I miss you both very, very much. But I'll see you soon, and we'll have a big party with cake and ice cream to make up for it._

_With all my love,_

_Tată._

* * *

Seattle, WA. USA - Sibiu, Romania

_September 3 2024_

_Dear Sasha,_

_Please be aware that your son has no comprehension of sarcasm and fully expects you to come home wearing the t-shirt he picked for you. And as you have no hope of that thing fitting you ever, you're going to need to find a seamstress to make you an exact copy. I did try to tell him it wouldn't fit you, but Sandu insisted that you were both the same size._

_That aside, I'm glad you had a reasonably good birthday. Tell Aurel and Uncle Luca that the kids and I say 'hi' next time you see them. And tell Corvin if he tries taking you somewhere like that again I'll have his head. And yours, darling, so consider yourself warned._

_Love you lots, so__ţ,_

_Payson xoxo_

* * *

Seattle, WA. USA - Sibiu, Romania

_September 4 2024_

_Dear Tată!_

_My school is mirific! We did painting and everybody made a card with their name on it. Mamă stayed for the first lesson and she said that I should put Dru like Nana and Grandpa and Tusă call me because the other kids might have trouble with Alexandru. So I put Dru on mine like Mamă said and cos it was shorter than Alexandru I had extra room and drew a picture of an octopus. But then I ran out of room and there were only seven legs, not eight, and Mamă said we should call it a sapte-pus instead._

_The boy next to me was named Harley and cos his name was short, he had room for a picture too and he drew a funny looking tree. He said it was a cactus. I didn't know what a cactus was because I don't think we have cactus in Romania. Harley said they only grow in really hot places, and he saw lots of them when he went on holiday to _

("Mamă, where did Harley say he saw the cactuses?"

"In Phoenix, sweetheart," Payson replied, petting him gently on the head. "Do you want me to spell it?"

"I can spell it, Mamă," Sandu assured her. He was very independent for a five-year-old, just like his mother had been at the same age.)

_Fenix._

_After that we sat down and everyone had to tell a story about where they went on holiday and I talked about when we went fishing with Grandpa and how we caught a fish and it was as big as the whole boat. And then we did writing and the teacher said we could write about our own story or someone else's. I was going to write about Harley's and the cactuses, but then I decided to write my own story so I could write to you about the cactuses instead! :) _

_And then we had lunch and we got to play with the basketballs. I played with Harley and Sean and David and Ashleigh whose a girl but doesn't like girl things like ponies. Sean has a brother in the senior school and he came and saw us and he told us all the special rules, but I think he was making them up because they didn't sound like real rules. _

_After lunch we went back to class and the teacher called everyone's names. Her name is Miss P and Sean's brother said she's really strict. After that she read to us from a storybook and she asked if anyone knew the story, and I thought I did because it was the same as Bunic's book, but she read it different from Bunic._

_We did some other stuff and then a bell rang and that meant it was home time. Mamă came back with Nana and Grandpa and Cati and we all went to have ice cream._

_I think you'll really like my school, Tată. And when you get home I can show you where it is and where I keep my bag and where the pencils are kept._

_Love you lots, Tată!_

_From,_

_Alexandru Nicolae Belov_

* * *

Bucharest, Romania - Seattle, WA. USA

_September 5 2024_

_Stimati Payson,_

_Sasha mi-a arătat fotografii lui Alexandru unifrom în şcoala lui. El se uită mai mult ca tatăl său în fiecare zi. Haha. Special cu faptul că privire încruntată pe fata lui._

_El nu-i place având în fotografia lui, nu el?_

_Sper că tu este bine vă găsi. Daphne trimite dragostea ei. Ea lipseşte cei mici ca un nebun. Trebuie să vii înapoi să viziteze cât mai repede, este convenabil._

_Sperăm să vedem în curând, nepoată._

_Cu dragoste,_

_Luca Belov_

* * *

Seattle, WA. USA - Sibiu, Romania

_September 6 2024_

_Dear Tată!_

_I think you are not writing me as many letters as I am writing you. And I think I will not write you _ANY_ more letters until you write me one back. Because you have only written me three letters and I have written you a _MILLION_ times, and you haven't written Mamă any letters at all._

_Today I went to my new friend Harley's house and we played pirates until Mamă came to pick me up. Harley has a parrot, and we tried to teach it how to talk pirate, but he didn't say anything. Harley's parents said I could come over whenever I liked. I think Harley and me are going to be best friends._

_Nana and Grandpa are going back to Boulder in the morning so we're all going out to dinner. Grandpa said I could choose but I couldn't remember anywhere good so I let Mamă choose. That's why I'm only writing quick, cos I need to go soon._

_Love you, Tată!_

From,

_Alexandru Nicolae Belov_

* * *

Seattle, WA. USA - Sibiu, Romania

_September 7 2024_

_Dear Tată!_

_I think Mamă is sad that you are not writing her as much as you are writing me. We went to the gym today, and I asked Uncle Marty and he said I was right. He said that I should tell you off for not writing. Cos you need to write to Mamă and then she'll be happy._

_Uncle Marty said we should get Mamă a present so she's happy. I picked some flowers and gave them to her, and that made her happy. I think if you got Mamă some flowers too that would make her extra happy and then she'd always be happy!_

_Love you lots, Tată!_

_From,_

_Alexandru Nicolae Belov_

* * *

Interflora - Seattle, WA. USA

_September 8 2024_

_EXPRESS DELIVERY_

_To my love, _

_So that you will always be happy._

_Yours forever,_

_Sasha_

* * *

Sibiu, Romania - Seattle, WA. USA

_September 9 2024_

_Dear Sandu,_

_My cheeky puiule. I'm sorry I haven't written as much as you would like. It's only because nothing interesting ever happens to me. Not like your days, Sandu, filled with pirates, and dragons, and sapte-pus._

_Instead I have boring meetings with people who have never seen cacti in Phoenix. And they talk for ages about boring things, so when I get home I'm happy to have your letters or to be able to talk to you and your Mamă over the phone. And Cati too, even though she doesn't really talk._

_I hope you'll keep writing to me, puiule, even if I have been somewhat lax in reply. And I'll send lots of flowers to your Mamă so she knows how much I love her._

_With all my love, Sandu,_

_Tată_

* * *

Seattle, WA. USA - Sibiu, Romania

_September 10 2024_

_Dear Tată!_

_Mamă said I should tell you that you don't need to send her flowers anymore, but I don't think I should because they make her happy and I like when Mamă is happy. I think she liked the yellow ones you got her best of all because she put those in the kitchen so she could see them all the time._

_Uncle Marty walked with me to school today. Mamă and I went early to the gym and then Uncle Marty came to school because he said he wanted to see Harley. Harley said that Uncle Marty was scary but I said he wasn't scary at all._

_At school we learnt about plants and we are trying to grow our own plants. I don't know how long it is supposed to take but I think when you get home it will be really big and we will have to plant it outside so that it has enough room to grow. Right now it is growing in a plastic bottle. _

_Miss P said the seed will grow into a beanstalk. She told us about all the things that plants need to grow and then everybody got to choose where they thought the best place was. I put mine near the window cos Bunic said they need lots of sun. Harley put his near the sink cos plants need water and he wanted to be able to give his plant lots of water._

_When it grows, it will make lots of beans and then we can cook the beans for dinner. I told Mamă we will have to wait until you are home to eat them, even if they look really tasty._

_Love you, Tată! And I will write to you lots and lots. But you should write too, because I think I would like to read your letters even if they were boring._

_From,_

_Alexandru Nicolae Belov_

* * *

Seattle, WA. USA - Sibiu, Romania

_September 11 2024_

_Dear Tată!_

_We are writing letters today in class and Miss P said we could write them to anyone we liked. Adesea I write to you at home __şi Mamă helps me sometimes but today I am writing all on my own. Harley is writing to you __şi __că he didn't know who to write to._

_Today Mamă walked me to school. I think Uncle Marty wanted to walk me __din nou. But Mamă came __că she wanted to invite Harley to our house __şi now Harley is going to come over acesta __sâmbătă. I asked Mamă if we could go __gimnazial privind sâmbătă şi a spus ea poate._

_Paul a spus el ar fi acolo şi el poate arăta lui bare paralele spre Harley._

_Love you, Tată!_

_From, _

_Alexandru Nicolae Belov_

* * *

Sibiu, Romania - Seattle, WA. USA

_September 12 2024_

_Dear Sandu,_

_I think your friend Harley is probably right about Uncle Marty. He can be pretty scary when he wants to be, although not as scary as your Mamă. I dare you to ask him about that, puiule. He might even tell you. _

_I hope you like your present, puiule. I saw it and thought of you. When I get home I'll sit and read it with you._

_All my love,_

_Tată_

* * *

Seattle, WA. USA - Sibiu, Romania

_September 13 2024_

_Dear Tată!_

_The beans are not growing as fast as I thought they would. My bean is one of the best growers in the class, but it has only grown a little. And I made sure it had lots of sun, but I do not think we will have beans before you get home._

_Mamă and I are going to make our own garden at home because you need more than just beans for dinner. We will have carrots and beets and potatoes and lots of other vegetables. We won't have tomatoes cos Mamă doesn't like tomatoes._

_Mamă said we have to make a scarecrow first so that the birds don't try to steal from the garden, so me and Harley are going to make the scarecrow on Saturday. That means we won't be going to the gym but Paul said that was okay. _

_I think it will be better when you get back anyway._

_I love you, Tată!_

_From,_

_Alexandru Nicolae Belov_

* * *

Seattle, WA. USA - Sibiu, Romania

_September 14 2024_

_Dear Tată!_

_I had lots and lots of fun today. Harley came over with his mom and she stayed and talked to Mamă while Harley and I made scarecrows for the garden. We made them out of straw and some sacks and then we put clothes on them. My scarecrow had a hat with a flower on it. Harley said that we should call it after something scary so that the birds know that it's scary so we named one of them after Uncle Marty and the other after Mamă cos you said she was scarier than Uncle Marty._

_After that Mamă put the scarecrows on poles so that we could plant them in the garden. And she brought out some seeds and we planted those in the garden too. They won't be done for a while, though, so you'll have to wait before we can eat them, Tată._

_Me and Harley played some games after that and Cati came out too for awhile but she didn't play because she's still a baby. Harley doesn't have a little sister so he didn't understand why I let Cati sit with us even though she wasn't playing, but I explained that it's because I'm her big brother and I have to watch out for her just in case. Especially because Cati is so small._

_I think she has grown since we came home. Don't worry, she has only grown a little bit._

_Love you lots, Tată!_

_From,_

_Alexandru Nicolae Belov_

* * *

Seattle, WA. USA - Sibiu, Romania

_September 15 2024_

_Dear Sasha,_

_It's good to hear that everything's going to plan. I'm a little surprised that you didn't think of Aurel sooner. I can't think of a person more perfect for the job._

_As I'm sure you'll be able to tell from Sandu's letter, he had a good time with Harley and we now have a rather nice vegetable garden with "Marty" and "Payson" scarecrows. I do wonder what you had in mind, darling, when you told our son that I was scarier than Marty. I certainly never did anything to you, __so__ţ_, to make you think that way.

_Harley seems a really good kid and they get on really well. His mother is a little frosty but I'm hoping that she'll warm up over time as it seems like Harley and Sandu are going to be friends for awhile. He has a couple of other school friends, but he and Harley are almost inseparable. I think the little girl, Ashleigh, (I think he mentioned her before) has a crush on Sandu._

_Caitlin's been very active lately and I think she'll be walking all on her own by the time you get home. She's been pushing herself up onto her feet, but then sits back down right away, like she remembers that you made her promise not to pass any milestones while you were gone._

_I miss you, Sasha, but we'll see you soon._

_With all my love,_

_Payson xoxo_

* * *

Bucharest, Romania - Seattle, WA. USA

_September 16 2024_

_Dear Sandu,_

_I got both your letter and your Mamă's at the same time telling me about your weekend. It sounds like you had a really good time and I'm looking forward to meeting this Harley when I get home this week._

_I spent a very long boring day with a very long boring man in Bucharest, but at least I was finally able to sort the things that were keeping me away from you and Cati and your Mamă. Bunic left us some surprises, but nothing that will keep me away from you for longer than anticipated._

_I'll see you all soon._

_All my love,_

_Tată_

* * *

Seattle, WA. USA - Sibiu, Romania

_September 17 2024_

_Dear Tată!_

_Today Mamă and I went to the gym extra earlier and even though it was really early there was someone there! And he wanted to talk to you and Mamă, but you weren't there and she told him to come back next week._

_Mamă said he's a gymnast and he probably wants to train with you and Mamă cos you're the best! Mamă always says so. She says you've coached more winning teams than anyone else and that's what makes you the best and that's why everyone wants to come to our gym._

_At school we went into the senior school and they had a worm farm and all the students got up and told us about the worm farm. I think we should get a worm farm for the garden at home because they said that having a worm farm made the plants grow faster. I don't think it would work for the beans at school because they don't have any dirt in them for the worms to live in._

_My bean has grown heaps since the weekend. It's the second best grower. Ashleigh's is a better grower because her one almost has a leaf. She put her bean on the window where mine is and I think that's why they're growing the best, but I'm not sure why hers is growing better. I asked Ashleigh if we could swap places for a little while, that way mine might have a leaf too so I can show you when you come home._

_Mamă said you'll be home really soon and she said I could have the day off so we can all go to the airport. That made me really happy because I've missed you lots, Tată, and I wanted to see you right away._

_Love you, Tată!_

_From,_

_Alexandru Nicolae Belov_

* * *

Seattle, WA. USA - Sibiu, Romania

_September 18 2024_

_Dear Sasha,_

_I think tomorrow is going to be the longest day of my life. I just wish you were home already – so much so that I'll even let you have one free 'I told you so' when you get home. It feels like it's been months rather than weeks._

_I know Sandu's getting antsy. The only time I can get him to sit still is when he's writing down all the things he wants to show you when he gets home. He already has two pages, so be prepared._

_Anyways, I love you. I can't wait for you to get home._

_I'll see you soon, my sweet,_

_Payson xoxo_

* * *

_September 19 2024_

_Dear Tată!_

_Welcome home! I'm sure that I will be glad when you are home tomorrow. Mamă said – _

.

"I'll be right back," Payson promised as a knock on the door cut into their letter writing.

"It's okay, Mamă," Sandu chided. "I can write it myself."

"I know you can, Sandu," she said, giving him a quick kiss on the temple. "No using Romanian when you can't spell a word in English," she said, sending a warning look over her shoulder as she headed to the door. She was about to say more, but there was a second, more insistent knock at the door vying for her attention. Door-to-door salesmen was one thing she really hadn't missed in Romania.

She readied her excuse as she opened the door, not at all ready for the sight that greeted her. "What . . .?" she asked, unable to form more than that.

"They're gerberas," Sasha grinned pleasantly, as though that was what her shocked and questioning expression was directed at. He passed her the bouquet of purple sunflowers, kissing his stunned wife on the cheek.

"But you - " she began, still struggling to comprehend his presence.

"I got an earlier flight," he shrugged. "I missed you, s_cumpa mea_."

She stared at him for just a moment longer, a bright smile flooding her features. "Me too," she finally managed before settling against his chest as he wrapped her in familiar embrace.

"Mamă, how do you - _Tată!_" Sandu cried out as he spotted his father. He dashed across the room without another word, throwing his arms around his father's legs.

Sasha dropped down, lifting the little boy up into his arms and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You've grown, puiule," he accused affectionately.

Sandu nodded, eagerly, clearly proud of the small growth spurt. "Soon I'll be as tall as Mamă!" he beamed.

"You will," Sasha agreed. "Did your Mamă behave herself while I was gone?" he asked, glancing over his son's shoulder so he could send Payson a teasing smile. She rolled her eyes in reply, but couldn't stop herself from smiling.

"Mamă was good," Sandu promised brightly.

"And you, puiule?" he asked warmly.

"I was even good-er than Mamă!"

"Better, Alexandru," Payson corrected patiently. "Not good-er.

"It's good to have you home," she said quietly, moving closer to the pair. Her hand settled on Sandu's back as she cuddled into Sasha's side, her head resting against his shoulder.

"It's good to be home," Sasha agreed.

~ FIN ~

* * *

**Translations:**

**_puiule:_ **cub  
_**Tati te iubeşte, fetiţă**: _Daddy loves you, baby girl  
**_so_**_**ţ: **_husband  
_**scumpa mea**_: my darling  
_**mirific:**_ wonderful  
_**sapte:** _seven ('opt' is eight)  
_**Bunic:**_ Grandfather (Dmitri)  
_**Adesea:**_ Usually  
**_şi: _**and, too, as well_  
_**_că: _**because  
_**din nou:**_ again  
**acesta _sâmbătă: _**this Saturday  
_I asked Mamă if we could go _**_gimnazial privind sâmbătă şi a spus ea poate. _****_Paul a spus el ar fi acolo şi el poate arăta lui bare paralel spre Harley: _**I asked mum is we could go to the gymnasium on Saturday and she said maybe. Paul (a gymnast) said he would be there and he could show his parallel bars to Harley.

Uncle Luca's letter is simply him saying how much Sandu looks like Sasha in his picture (especially because he's scowling and doesn't like being photographed) and that his wife (Daphne) misses the kids.

**Notes:**

Sibiu is just out of Bucharest. I figured they wouldn't be living directly in the city while in Romanian and Sibiu seemed a nice enough place being one of the cultural capitals of Europe.


	14. Agony Aunt January 2014

A/N: This is one that I think most people have been rather curious about for a while now. We've already seen how Payson and Sasha became reacquainted in Washington, but how exactly did they get together?

.

**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

* * *

Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

* * *

**Agony Aunt**

If anyone ever found out she'd deny it. Not that they would for any reason, but it was always best to consider all the possibilities in a situation like this, and the last thing that she wanted her friends (or her mother or her sister or anyone she had ever met ever) finding out that she was consulting Women's Interest magazines for romantic advice.

Most of it was just common sense anyway. Payson largely considered herself 'romantically naïve', but even she realized that a phonecall after 11pm was a booty call and that if a guy is un-tagging you in photos then you're probably not his only girlfriend. Which wasn't, by the way, the sort of advice she was looking for.

She'd just been sort of _drawn_ to one of the headlines, and in her desperation, she'd shelled out the $4.20 (which she thought was a touch overpriced for something so tawdry) for that one article. Like hell she wanted to be caught reading it at the store, especially when that store was the campus bookshop and someone she knew could walk in at any moment.

After paying for the magazine and a few other items to disguise her purchase (the level of deception reminded her of a teenaged boy trying to buy porn for the first time) she hightailed back to her room, grateful that she no longer had a roommate to watch over her shoulder. She flicked quickly to the article she was after, glancing around suspiciously as she re-read the headline.

**How to go from Good Friend to Girlfriend**

She couldn't help but cringe at the measures she'd been forced to take. It wasn't like she could really talk to anyone about this. None of them had really gone through this sort of thing themselves and she wasn't looking forward to any of their reactions. Lauren would likely be smug and act as though she'd called it right from the start. Emily would probably act all squeamish and Kaylie would probably be judgmental. And aside from Kiera – who had made it uncomfortably clear that she was all for any positive actions in that direction – she just wasn't close enough to anyone else at UW that she could go to for advice.

Thus her resorting to gossip magazines.

All because of one slightly awkward incident.

_~ Three Weeks Earlier_

_Sasha never acted surprised to see her sitting alone in his living room with her books spread over his coffee table as she aimlessly highlighted the important passages. Even though she no longer had a crazy roommate to escape from, this remained one of her favourite study haunts and one of her favourite places generally._

_Instead he just casually walked through his apartment as though this were a completely normal occurrence. "Something smells good," he noted as he moved from the lounge to the kitchen, eying the moderately sized oven appreciatively._

_"I made you lasagne," Payson replied, glancing briefly over her shoulder. "It should keep you fed for the week."_

_She sighed and lifted her arms over head, stretching out the kinks in her body that came from leaning over her books. "Time for a study break," she said emphatically, nearly jumping to her feet._

_"Didn't classes only just get back?" Sasha asked with a smirk of amusement._

_"Yeah," she shrugged. "No point putting it off." She swanned into the kitchen, picking up a mug sitting on the counter and bringing it to her lips. "Uck, this is cold," she complained with a sour expression._

_"It is," Sasha noted, his eyes quite clearly laughing at her. "How long ago did you make it?"_

_She gave a small shrug and a vague wave of her hand that quite clearly said she had no idea. And he laughed again, this time a proper laugh, throwing back his head with amusement and smiling wider as she joined in._

_She loved his laughter. She loved the sound, the low timbre. She loved the way his expression creased with joy. It simply wasn't possible for her to hear him laugh without joining him._

_But the thing she loved most was the way he became so unguarded afterwards. There was always a moment, right after he was done laughing, when the walls that guarded his expression fell away – just for a second – and she could read him like an open book. She loved seeing him so vulnerable and so different from the hard, impenetrable man she had known in her youth._

_Today was no different, and for that brief second as their eyes met in the fading joy, his expression read clearer than it had ever read before. And there was something there she had never expected to see – a look of awe and wonder and gratitude and joy. And he was just looking at her like she was the greatest thing he had ever seen._

_It made her heart speed and her breath catch, and she wondered how she had never seen it before. But then the walls were back up, and the guardedness returned, and she would have doubted its existence if there wasn't a little afterglow that remained in the warm smile he continued to send her way._

_"Do you want a cuppa?" he asked, bringing her away from her thoughts with a light touch to her hand that she had always brushed off as platonic._

_She shook her head, reluctant to leave after her latest revelation but knowing she had to. "I have to go meet Kiera," she told him with a rueful smile. "Do you want to come over Friday for dinner?" she offered. "I'll make your favourite."_

_He smiled back and nodded his head, walking her towards the door and making no mention of the things she left sprawled over his room. He knew she'd be back for them tomorrow or some other time, and they weren't causing him any bother being there._

_As they stood beside the door, she made a split-second decision. She took a step closer and moved in, whispering a low "I'll see you tomorrow," as she pressed a kiss just shy of his lips. She pulled away ever so slightly, meeting his gaze and begging him to see, for him to read her like she had him. She held it for as long as she could, pouring everything into her stare in the hopes that he would finally understand, finally realize what she had been keeping from him for years._

_And then suddenly she was hard against the door with Sasha's lips firmly against her own, kissing her with all the fierce intensity she had always dreamed he would. His hands clenched at her hip while hers threaded into his hair as she opened her mouth to allow him to kiss her more fully. __Their lips parted only a moment for air, each kiss flowing seamlessly into the next._

_And then just as suddenly he was three steps away, refusing to meet her gaze. Everything about him – his suddenly tense demeanour, his disparaging expression, and the forced distance between them – screamed one thought: 'This is wrong!' and the words that left his lips as he turned away from her nearly broke her in two._

_"You should go."_

It had been nearly three weeks since she and Sasha kissed and she had to do _something_. One of her best friends was avoiding her, and when she did manage to get a hold of him, he was distant and practically silent. They'd gone from being able to talk about anything to struggling with small talk just because they _accidentally_ kissed.

Well, not so much accidentally. And she wasn't really sure 'kissed' was the right word for it either. It was more like a series of kisses that she would have admitted as being completely intentional if it weren't for Sasha's guilt harrowed expression and the unvoiced apologies that followed it.

And it wasn't like Sasha could just smooth things over this time with a moving speech about the relationship between a coach and athlete. They were so far beyond that point it wasn't funny. They were probably beyond that point back when he said it the first time (they were very much bordering on friends back then, and the years between had only brought them closer).

They had moved so far beyond the point of denail and brushing things under the rug, and despite any arguments Sasha might have in the contrary, she loved him. And she had a pretty good feeling that Sasha might love her too.

* * *

~ A few days later

Thursday night was a late practice for the 'Gym Dawgs', which meant she knew exactly where Sasha would be and she knew he wouldn't have any plans afterwards. She waited for the last of the twelve or so girls to leave, and then ducked into the gymnasium with her usual carrier of take-out while Sasha went over his notes from practice.

"I went to that Vietnamese place on 19th," she called as she entered, announcing her presence obliquely. He nearly jumped from his seat at the sound of her voice, which she did her best to ignore for the time being. "I got that jalapeno lemongrass one you like because you're weird and apparently have no sense of courtesy for your taste buds."

"Thanks, Pay," he said with a weak smile as she sat beside him on the bleachers. He usually stood to greet her with a hug, or a squeeze of her hand, or kiss to her crown when he was feeling especially affectionate. Sasha was naturally a very physical person, and she could see him almost twitch as he restrained himself from greeting her in his usual manner, maintaining a physical distance as well as an emotional distance.

"I wasn't expecting you tonight," he admitted, looking uncomfortable. She could read between the lines and understood that what he was really confessing to was the small part of him that hoped that she wouldn't show.

She gave him a slightly reproachful look. "Who'd feed you then?" she asked him playfully.

"I have cereal," he shrugged, his smile turning a little more genuine at the shared memory alluded to. "What else did you get?"

"A smoothie," she said, emptying the carrier bag of its contents. She handed him his dish with a shudder. "Summer rolls. And soup for me."

Sasha nodded as he picked up the dish. "They do a good Pho," he said, feeling the need to fill the silence.

"They do," she agreed. She was happy not to say more. The silence was nice, and some of the times she loved best between them was when they were just sitting, side-by-side, with nothing to say. It didn't need to be filled, and it was only Sasha's current awkwardness around her that made him think otherwise.

That said, she had to say something, but she'd let him have his taste bud killing curry first before she forced a confrontation.

"Sasha, we need to talk," she expelled as soon as they were done. He turned towards her, his expression a mixture of surprise and grief.

She took a deep breath and continued. "There's something I need to say to you and Cosmo says it's best just to be direct in these situations, so I'm just going to say it," she said plainly, verging on babbling as her nerves began to take hold. Sasha lifted an eyebrow at the mention of Cosmo but she continued without addressing the unspoken question.

"I'm in love with you."

There was a long silence as about a million different emotions flashed before Sasha's eyes, all gone far too quickly for her to be able name and categorize each one. "So now it's your turn," she said, making a vague gesture with her hands for him to take the floor.

"That's not what I thought you were going to say," Sasha spluttered, saying the first thing that came to mind.

"Good," she admitted, "because the expression on your face when I started talking wasn't exactly encouraging.

"So what happens next?" she asked when it became clear that Sasha wasn't going to say more.

"I don't know," he said sorrowfully.

She lifted an eyebrow, his tone making her wonder if maybe she'd done the wrong thing in following the advice of some nameless stranger writing for mass appeal. Had she really read things so wrong? While she hadn't had that much experience with the opposite sex, she could have swore she saw something more than mere platonic affection and physical attraction in his eyes. Something more concrete.

"You don't know because you don't know if you want to be friends anymore? Or you don't know because . . ." She wasn't even sure how she wanted to finish that sentence and trailed off as Sasha's eyes shot wide with fear.

"I don't want that," he protested quickly. "I don't want us to stop being friends. I just . . . maybe it's for the best."

"Because I've made things awkward between us by telling you I love you when you don't feel the same?" she guessed with a pained smile. "I'm so stupid," she accused bitingly. "I ruined everything."

"No," Sasha said simply, his voice low and his hand suddenly brushing against her cheek. "You, Payson Keeler, are most definitely not stupid and I won't hear you say that about yourself."

He leaned forward, using the hand on her cheek to guide her towards his lips for just an instant. "You are the wisest, bravest, most beautiful . . ." he began, trailing off as his expression dropped. "And I don't deserve you," he muttered lowly. He dropped his hand from her cheek and forced himself to turn away, posture rigid as he stared straight ahead into the empty gym.

_So that's what it is._ Somehow she wasn't all that surprised to hear him say as much.

The laugh that trailed from her lips wasn't joyful. It was ironic, if anything, reverberating from the tiny heartbreak she felt at his words. "And you are the stupidest, most stubborn, most ridiculously noble man I have ever met," she accused with an exasperated scoff.

"I'm not," he rallied against her, still refusing to look at her. "I'm anything but noble."

"You are," she disagreed, shifting closer to him. She approached cautiously, first taking his hand in her own and then leaning her head against his shoulder. For a few moments, they simply sat in silence while she traced her fingers over the lines and callouses of his well-worn hands, feeling him eventually relax under the touch. She knew she was pushing him, and that it was perhaps underhanded to use this weakness against him, but she refused to simply let it go. Not when what he wasn't saying told her everything she needed to hear.

"It's one of the things I love about you," she told him softly. "My noble _Alexandru_," she added, feeling his heartbeat quicken as her fingers fell over his pulse point. "You've already given up everything to protect me once, Sasha. I won't let you do it again."

"You . . . you deserve so much more than this, Payson," he protested weakly, wishing he had the strength and honour to really push her away. "Someone who isn't damaged by a lifetime of burning bridges."

She didn't budge, didn't even seem to respond to his argument. "You won't let me just walk away, will you," he laughed humourlessly, his traitorous gaze shifting down towards their joint hands.

"Never," she assured him. "You know I'll just keep chasing after you.

"The thing is, Sasha Belov," she said in authoritative tone, moving away slightly so he could turn to face her. Tears pricked in the corners of her eyes as she offered him a wane smile. "I'm not sure I could live without you."

He swallowed thickly, seeming to come to a decision in the brief instant between their words. "Then I suppose," he said, pausing to find the right words, "the rest of it doesn't matter?" He wore a hopeful expression as every reason he had imagined for why they shouldn't be together fell to oblivion. The age gap, what others would think, his own conviction that he might be the worst person in the world for her – suddenly it all seemed like trifling excuses to keep him at bay.

"Not to me," she answered sincerely, knowing exactly what he was asking her. "Sasha – "

Whatever she was about to say never made it past her lips as Sasha's lips sealed over her own, kissing her soundly and erasing it from her mind. Her heart raced as he anchored a hand at her waist, pulling her as close as was possible in their current position. She was pretty sure nobody had ever kissed her like that – like he was trying to make up for a million times when he hadn't kissed her when he really should have.

She was breathless when they finally pulled apart, her lips bruised and tender from the assault. But she couldn't help but smile as Sasha leaned his forehead lightly against her own, his eyes less guarded then they had been the last time they'd kissed like that, and his hand still clutching at her waist. She raised a hand to his face, needing physically feel him under her fingertips to confirm that he was real and that he wasn't going to disappear as soon as she blinked.

"So I guess this means you'll let me catch you this time?" she asked with a coy smile.

"I think it's too late for that," Sasha replied, his expression solemn. He grinned suddenly, his blue eyes lighting with familiar teasing. "I think you had me at 'Cosmo'," he said, an eyebrow raised in the same unspoken question asked earlier.

She grimaced and he laughed, and she probably would have been mad at him for at least two days if he hadn't chosen that moment to press a chaste kiss to her lips and whisper three unequivocal words in her ear.

_"I love you."_

~ FIN ~

* * *

**Notes:**

This isn't actually how I initially wanted to get them together. I had this fantastic comedy of errors type situation vaguely outlined in my head, but I guess sometimes the simplest version is what works best.

And for anyone wondering (because apparently the term isn't as widespread as I thought), an 'Agony Aunt' is an advice columnist.


	15. A Need for Speed September 2013

A/N: This is one that I think most people have been rather curious about for a while now. We've already seen how Payson and Sasha became reacquainted in Washington, but how exactly did they get together?

.

**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

* * *

Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

* * *

**A Need for Speed**

"What?" Payson asked as her little sister watched her imperiously.

Becca gave an innocent looking shrugged and smiled in reply. "I'm pretty sure you broke like twelve road rules to get here."

Payson tsked. "You're exaggerating," she accused drolly.

"And I'm sure that's what you'll say when they try to take your licence," Becca responded, her tone just as droll as Payson's. "They're exaggerating, Your Honour," she said with a touch of snobbery, hand to her heart. "It was only nine and none of the important ones.

"Then you'll show them your medals," she added with a grin. "If all else fails, that one always seems to get you out of trouble."

Payson shook her head and rolled her eyes. "You're hilarious, Becs," she said sarcastically before she alighted from the vehicle, making a point of slamming the drivers side door loudly. Becca only laughed as she followed behind her sister, who walked straight up to the building they had parked outside and pressed in the building code without the slightest hesitation.

"I'm so telling Sasha," Becca said, carefully watching her sister's reaction at the mention of their former coach. Payson's steps faltered for a second, but she gave absolutely nothing away, not even turning the familiar shade of pink that was usually associated with the Romanian-Englishman's name.

After a moment to find her footing, Payson looked back over her shoulder to send her sister a mild glare. "You're gonna tell on me to my old coach?" she asked, slightly condescending. She pushed the call button for the lift before turning on her sister. "You've clearly never been in a car with Sasha. It would be completely hypocritical of him, not to mention, I seriously doubt Sasha will care about some speeding tickets."

Becca shook her head emphatically, smiling broadly. She decided to let the bit about being in a car with Sasha slide, finding she had more than sufficient ammunition at the moment. "I'm gonna tell the guy you like that you woke me up at 5am and drove like an a crazy person so you'd get to Seattle early enough that you wouldn't have to wait until tomorrow to see him."

"I . . . we had . . ." Payson began to splutter, fumbling for an excuse. "That's not why we left so early."

Becca scoffed. "Really?"

There was a loud ding as the elevator doors slid open. Becca couldn't help but notice the way the lift's former occupants each gave Payson a small nod of acknowledgement and greeting, and that Payson responded with brief smile at the people in return. It was clear that Payson spent an inordinate amount of time at Halcyon Apartments – at least enough time to be acquainted with the other tenants and for them to recognize her when she passed them in the lobby.

"Yes, really," Payson protested, returning to the debate as they were enclosed in the semi-privacy of the lift. "I just don't like driving at night."

Becca gave her a knowing look before continuing to question her sister's motives. "And the reason we had to head_directly_ to Sasha's with only a brief stop at the gas station so you could reapply your lipstick . . ." She trailed off, sure that she'd made her point.

Payson touched her lips self-consciously and shook her head. "It's moisturizing," she offered in her defence. "My lips were chapped."

"Chapped indeed," Becca laughed, unable to hold it back much longer, even for the sake of her sister's pride. "Seriously, Pay, if you want us all to keep believing that you and Sasha aren't an item, then you're going to need to be_way_ more subtle.

"Lipstick is not subtle," she added wisely, watching as Payson's self-conscious expression turned to fear.

"How "not subtle"?" the older Keeler asked worriedly.

"Don't worry about it," Becca assured her. The lift dinged again as they reached the designated floor and they stepped out into the empty hallway. "I meant from an outsiders perspective. Sasha is almost as oblivious about all this as you are."

"I'm not oblivious," Payson replied sourly, still wiping away her lipstick despite the assurance. She moved quickly down the hallway, this revealing more than she could possibly have intended. "You guys are just reading too much into the situation. We're just friends and Sasha isn't interested in me. Not like that."

"Of course he isn't," Becca agreed sarcastically. "I mean, it's not like you guys have anything in common or see each other almost every day. And it's not like he got you a totally gorgeous gift for Christmas that couldn't possibly be read as anything other than a declaration of love. I must be thinking of somebody else's not-boyfriend."

"Becca," Payson warned, her tone low.

"One of these days," Becca replied airily, her words more prophecy than warning, "you'll see just how dense you're being about this. And no matter how much you beg, there is nothing in this world that could stop me shoving a big fat "I told you so" in your face," she finished proudly, a wide grin on her face.

Payson sighed resignedly. "But not today, Becca," she strained. "I'm too tired for this.

"And don't," she added before her sister could start complaining again about their early morning start. She stopped as they reached a familiar apartment door, and lifted her hand to rap lightly against wooden façade of 8G, Halcyon Apartments.

The door opened abruptly, the apartment's slightly dishevelled looking occupant taking a moment to realize who was there. He clearly wasn't expecting anyone, already dressed in in his pyjamas at barely 7pm. Despite his sleepy, just out of bed appearance, he brightened instantly. Even Payson couldn't deny that he looked happy to see her standing outside of his apartment a full 12 hours sooner than he anticipated, and she was immediately swept into his warm embrace and treated to one of her favourite smiles.

Remembering Becca's words about subtlety, she staunchly refrained from nuzzling into his chest and taking a deep breath of the slightly spicy, familiar wooded scent. And maybe Becca was right about her being oblivious, because she immediately chalked the kiss that he pressed to her temple down to friendship and not something more. She had become quite the expert at lying to herself in that respect, but she wouldn't risk mistaking his actions for something less platonic than what they were. Not again.

"So . . ." Becca said vaguely, interrupting the moment for her own sake – there was only so much PDA she could take before she started to feel like a bit of a voyeur. She sent her sister another of her knowing smiles.

"You guys are here early," Sasha said, the 'why are you here so early' merely implied. There was obvious reluctance in his actions as he slowly released Payson from his arms and moved to greet Becca with a far more brotherly embrace.

"We made good time," Payson said, quickly shooting a narrowed glance at her little sister.

"Yup," Becca agreed, smiling sweetly at her sister. "And with the time difference it was almost like we left four hours earlier than we intended."

Payson forced a laugh, trying to cover up Becca's insinuation, while Sasha just looked adorably confused, his head tilting to the side in perplexity. Payson suspected he was still suffering from the effects of jetlag, having only arrived back in the US earlier the same day. At least some things seemed to be going her way.

"I was going to see if you wanted to join us for dinner, but seeing as you're already in your "jim-jams" . . ." she teased with an affectionate grin, tugging at the dull grey shirt she knew he'd only thrown on to answer the door.

"As though I could say no to the thought of dinner with you two lovely ladies," he grinned back. In spite of the acknowledgement in his words, his eyes remained trained upon Payson, and Becca might as well have been invisible for all the notice she was given by the two incredibly dense former Olympians. How he missed the way that Payson's eyes lit up with unabashed joy was beyond anyone's comprehension.

"Did you have anywhere in mind?"

"I was thinking Tulio," Payson replied, her happy expression not fading. "I thought about their risotto the whole time I was in Minnesota," she admitted with a dreamy sigh.

"Now go change," she said, her dreamy expression suddenly shifting as she began to herd him towards his bedroom (Becca couldn't help but note that Payson knew where this was and seemed very at ease in their surroundings). "Wear that dark blue polo with the aqua coloured bands," she demanded. "And the coffee coloured trousers."

"Yes, dear," Sasha mocked. "Did you want to suggest a belt?"

Payson replied with a Stepford-worthy smile, "I trust your judgment on that." She gave him one last shove towards the bedroom before returning to the lounge to call the restaurant to make sure they had a table.

"This is nice," Becca commented once her sister was done booking a table at what was clearly a restaurant that she and Sasha frequented given what she'd heard of Payson's side of the conversation. She waved her hand around vaguely as Payson gestured for some context. "The apartment."

And it was. It had a good amount of space and gorgeous views from the large windows occupying the far wall. The furniture was all very Sasha – pieces made with dark oak and traditional materials rather than sleek, modern leather couches and glass tables – but there were also elements that betrayed Payson's influence. Well, she assumed that they were Payson's influence, only because she quite doubted that Sasha would have bought the grape coloured pillows on the couch himself or the ornate looking candlesticks sitting in the middle of his table on a lace doily like the ones their Mom had all over their house in Boulder.

Not to mention the few items of women's clothing hanging around. There was a burgundy scarf and matching woollen cap hanging on the coat rack by the door, which Becca recognized as the same set she'd bought Payson last year. And a cream coloured cardigan that Payson had already divested from the rack and exchanged for the heavier jacket she'd worn into the apartment. There was even a pair of fluffy slippers with the rest of the shoes that looked exactly Payson's size and a small collection of bracelets sitting beside a pile of biology books on the coffee table. Becca couldn't help but wonder how much more of Payson's stuff would be strewn around if Payson and Sasha hadn't both been out of the apartment for nearly three weeks.

"Thus why I would rather hang out here than in a cramped room with a roommate who had a shrine on her desk dedicated to the Harry Potter kids," Payson said indignantly, oblivious to Becca's scrutiny and the deductions she drew from what she saw in the apartment. She shuddered as she thought of the girl she'd been roomed with last semester, which had been what convinced her to let go of the 'authentic college experience' and just use her endorsement money to find a nice place off-campus. "I swear Rupert Grint's eyes would follow me wherever I went," she said seriously.

"You're so paranoid," Becca accused in an affected tone. "And don't pretend like your being here had anything to do with Rupert Grint's eyes," she added with an innocent smile.

"What about Rupert Grint's eyes?" Sasha asked as he strolled back into the room, inadvertently saving Payson from more torture. He wore a dark navy polo shirt with white and aqua bands around the sleeves and collar and a pair of woollen slacks the colour of milky coffee. He'd even gone to the effort to fluff his hair a little, but hadn't bothered shaving, although he still looked rather well put together for a man who'd been in his pyjamas less than ten minutes ago. "Isn't that the ginger kid from the wizard movies?"

Payson sighed loudly and shook her head. "You are a lost cause," she accused affectionately. She crossed the room towards him, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and putting on an annoyed expression as her eyes skimmed over him. "You'll pass," she shrugged, feigning an apparent indifference to the look of him. "Ready?"

He nodded, swiping his keys and wallet from the dining table before they headed out the door with leather jacket in hand. "You driving or me?" he asked her as the group moved down the hallway back to the lift.

"You can drive," she said, handing him her own keys, "but only because I don't think Becca believed me when I said you were a bad driver."

Sasha looked genuinely affronted, his mouth dropping open in shock. "I'm an excellent driver."

Payson scoffed. "Sure you are, Rain Man," she replied, falling into step beside him.

Becca shook her head, wondering how two seemingly intelligent and intuitive people could be so stupid when it came to this. There was nothing subtle or ambiguous about the way that their hands brushed with every movement, or the side-glances they each flicked towards the other. There certainly wasn't anything to misconstrue in her grouchy coaches light manner, or her serious sister's infectious laughter.

As they passed more occupants of Halcyon Apartments, she couldn't help but notice the knowing looks the people threw towards her sister and former coach, or the way the older couples quietly cooed about young love.

She wondered how they could possibly be so oblivious when you only had to look at them to see it. But then Sasha put an arm around Payson's shoulders, seemingly to guide her out of the way of oncoming traffic, and Becca had to wonder if maybe they weren't quite as oblivious as she thought.

~ FIN ~

* * *

**Notes:**

Clearly the two most subtle people in the world here.

This is set about a month before the last chapter. And for those wondering, Becca's in Seattle to check out the campus.


	16. Home For Christmas December 2013

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**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

* * *

Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

* * *

**Home For Christmas**

"This is really nice, Dad," Sasha said, waving his hand appreciatively over the table.

It was only the two of them for Christmas dinner, but his dad had gone to some effort to make it all look presentable, folding the napkins and decorating the table with Christmas garnishes and even a couple of Christmas Crackers. All this only to serve them a pre-prepared Christmas dinner bought at the local supermarket. Neither of them were much for cooking, so it was probably the best that Sasha could expect. It was only the fact that he'd been so spoiled these last few months that made him turn his nose up at microwaved dinner.

Dmitri nodded, spooning applesauce onto his plate to improve the flavour. It would never compare to the Christmas dinners that Gwen used to make, mixing Romanian and English traditions into the meal. Gwen had always gone all out for Christmas – her favourite time of year.

They quickly said a prayer before they begun – not that either of them believed anymore. The tradition had stuck with them even after all these years, her memory looming over the table throughout the meal.

"You look well," Dmitri noted, giving his son a cursory glance. "Happy," he amended. "You look happy."

"I suppose I am," Sasha shrugged, looking up from his slightly greyish pork. "Things are good."

"You are still at The Rock, then?" Dmitri pressed. He scoffed and shook his head, guessing the reason for his son's apparent happiness. "With that Summer woman."

"No, Dad," Sasha replied, almost laughing at the thought. Christ, it had been years since anything had happened with Summer. He took the hint when she shacked up with Steve Tanner again, and just moved on from that whole messy business. They'd never been right for each other, and she had probably saved them both from future heartache when they found that out the hard way.

"Good. She was not right for you." The old man was reading his thoughts again, it seemed. Their biggest problem had always been that they were too a like, especially in the way that they thought about things. Dmitri always knew exactly what he was thinking.

"I'm not . . . I'm not at The Rock, Dad," Sasha said reluctantly, only realizing now that he hadn't bothered telling his Dad sooner about his change of employment. "I left not long after the Olympics."

Dmitri was good enough to remind him why that was. "Why would you leave?" he asked, judgment and reproach clear in his voice. "You are gymnastics coach. You are nothing if you are not gymnastics coach."

"I am coaching, Dad," he said tiredly. "Just not at The Rock. I needed a change of pace."

"So you are at smaller gym?" Dmitri asked, sounding a bit more encouraging. "A private gym?"

"Uh . . . no," he said awkwardly. He wondered if his Dad would consider his current occupation an improvement on not coaching, or something worse. "I took a job at Washington University in Seattle. I'm coaching for the University."

"You are what?" Dmitri exclaimed. "You give up all that promise to coach _amatori_," he said, sounding disgusted by what they were. He didn't mean it in the technical sense – in the way that it meant for NCAA eligibility – but in the sense of being unskilled and unworthy of his talent.

"Dad, it's college gymnastics, not circus work," he said tiredly. "The girls I coach are very capable, and any other year some of them might have even made it to the Olympics.

"I thought you'd like it, what with the old scoring," he noted, perhaps a bit more sarcastic than he ought to be. He was surprised that his father, a man who prized consistency over all else, had never considered the move to college gymnastics himself.

"It is below you," Dmitri said darkly, looking very petulant. "You are Olympic gymnastics coach. You should be coaching girls like Payson Keeler. Not these."

Sasha shook his head, a small smile tugging on his lips. "There are no girls like Payson Keeler, Dad," he said, affection slipping into his tone. "Finding someone like Payson was a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"So you coach at University instead?" Dmitri asked, not understanding his choice.

"It's complicated," Sasha sighed. "The guy blindsided me, and I don't even know why I agreed to it.

"But it's good," he assured his Dad. "I'm happy, remember? It's good to get away from the NGO for a bit, and it's kind of relaxing not to have the Olympics looming over your every decision."

Dmitri scoffed, still taking unfavourably to it. "So it is a woman then. Like I first thought," he said, sounding sanctimonious. "I always said it would be a woman."

"It's not a woman," Sasha said plainly in response. "I don't have time for that. I barely have time to see anyone other than Payson."

It was a mistake to be so candid with his father. He knew it the second that his father's eyes lighted with interest and his disgruntled expression suddenly shifted. "You are seeing Payson?" he asked. Sasha could have sworn that his Dad actually sounded hopeful and - to his amazement - approving.

"Not like that," he protested. "I see her around campus. She's studying at UW."

"And you are seeing her," his Dad repeated. "That is why you are at University. For Payson?"

He groaned. "Yes, but not the way you think, Dad," he said tiredly. "It's really not like that. We're just friends."

"No, I understand," Dmitri said, holding up a hand to silence him. "It is okay, Sasha. I will not say anything." He performed a little superstitious gesture – the Romanian equivalent of 'cross my heart and hope to die' – and gave a serious nod of his head.

"You should not be so worried," he said, with a wizened and consoling smile. "They are reasonable people, the Keelers. They will see how much you love their daughter and they will not worry for the age gap. They will only want her to be happy."

"Dad, we're not – " he tried to protest, but it was pointless. Dmitri had already made up his mind, and there were no arguments to counter that.

Dmitri just waved it away with a warm smile. "I am glad you are happy, _fiul_," he said, and Sasha just didn't have the heart to ruin what was otherwise a rather pleasant Christmas.

"I am," he said, slightly awed to realize that he was. It had crept upon him so slowly that it was only now that it came to light. "I really am."

~ FIN ~

There we go, my holiday entry. Although not the one I intended to have ready for Christmas. Hopefully by the next holiday I'll have the Thanksgiving one I started ages ago. Hopefully.

* * *

**Notes:**


	17. The Heir Apparent August 2037

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**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

This is a distant future one featuring Alexandru and Caitlin, written largely because Caitlin hasn't really gotten a story to herself yet. I mean, Daciana's already had a chapter to herself and she's the youngest. 'Tis the life of the middle child I suppose.

* * *

Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

* * *

**The Heir Apparent**

Caitlin wished she had a better story to tell.

Her mother talked about the start of her gymnastics career like some grand love story, which Caitlin supposed it kind of was in a slightly worrisome way. Payson had been sitting at her old home in Minnesota watching the Sydney Olympics, and at the end of the Men's All-Around competition she decided two things. Firstly, she was going to be an Olympic Champion. And Secondly, she was going to marry that beautiful man with the gold medal.

Once Payson Keeler set her mind to something, she would not be swayed or deterred. In 2012, she succeeded in becoming the Olympic Champion and four years later she married the man who made her fall in love with the sport, first when she was a little girl, and then all over again after she broke her back. It was sort of . . . epic.

And Caitlin supposed that was why everyone was always asking her about how _she_ came to love gymnastics. She was, after all, the daughter of two Olympic gymnasts and people wanted to hear how the two had moulded her into the gymnast she was today.

Her story was bound to disappoint them.

Her parents had never pushed her towards the sport and never even brought up the possibility of her doing gymnastics until she asked them if she could. They never assumed that doing gymnastics meant going to the Olympics, even when her promise as a gymnast made that a very real possibility. She hadn't even a clue how impressive her parents were until her brother pointed to the trophy case one day and casually informed her that those were their parents' Olympic gold medals on display – all eight of them. That was the day she decided she wanted to be an Olympian.

In some ways, the story of how she fell in love with gymnastics wasn't all that different from her mother's. She was nearly five at the time, and sitting on her grandfather's lap as she watched her big brother swing around the pommel horse under the watchful eye of both their parents. She was at that age where she thought anything and everything that her brother did was impressive, but gymnastics was at a whole new level of astonishment.

"Can I do that?" she asked in a small, awed voice, whipping her head around towards her grandfather. Her grandpa shook his head, chuckling lowly and declaring her to be just like her mother.

"You can do that, though," he said gently, pointing to one of the elite girls in the gym who was performing a piked jaeger on the uneven bars. Caitlin wasn't interested.

"Why can't I do it like Sandu?" she asked, her lips wobbling at the thought of not being allowed to something her brother could. Her grandparents smiled and explained as best they could – just as they had to their own daughter nearly thirty years earlier – that it was just how things worked. The girls did one set of events, and the boys did another set of events. She was disappointed, but still it was enough to make her fall in love with the sport, just as her mother had.

She loved the floor best of all. People liked to think it was because of her mother – because that had been Payson Keeler's best event and the one that proved to the world that she was truly back – but really it came from it being one of only two events that both she and Dru could compete on, albeit in slightly different ways.

Which is why she was so heartbroken by the news Dru had been saving until after the Junior National Championship. He was quitting gymnastics.

Their parents smiled softly, not all that surprised by the news, and Daciana told him he was weird for wanting to give up gymnastics so he could spend more time studying (to be a journalist of all things). Caitlin stood slowly from her seat and walked calmly to her room without a word to her brother, the door slamming behind her to indicate how upset she was about this.

"Caitlin," Dru called through the door, knocking gently against the wood. She silently refused to pay him any attention until he resorted to the old nickname he'd given her as a baby. "_Haide, Cati_. Let me in."

"No," she cried back at him, sitting cross-legged on her bed with her arms around the large stuffed bear he'd bought her before he went away to Stanford last year. She buried her head in the soft fur, letting it damp up her tears. "You're leaving me behind."

"Cati," he said gently, his affection obvious. "I'm not leaving you behind, _soră_. If anything, you're leaving me behind, Little Miss National Champion," he added more playfully, hoping that reminding her of the win might raise her spirits.

His only reply was a loud sniff on the other side. "C'mon, Caitlin," he tried again. "Let me in so I can explain."

"It's open," she called back eventually, refusing to move from her position. Knowing that was the best he was going to get, Dru stepped in cautiously, eying his little sister sympathetically.

"Cati," he said softly, taking a seat on the end of her bed, "you've gotta know that this wasn't easy for me. I thought about it for awhile and I knew you'd be unhappy with me, but – "

"Then you shouldn't have done it," Caitlin cut in childishly, tempted to throw something at her stupid big brother. "You said we'd got the Olympics together."

He nodded slowly, understanding that he'd hurt her. "We will, Cati," he promised her. "You'll go to the Olympics and I'll be your biggest supporter. I'll have a whole section of the stadium to myself just so I can fit all the stuff I need to cheer you on," he said with a stupid grin that always made her forgive him when she was mad at him.

"It won't be the same," she protested.

"I know, Cate," he sighed quietly. "I just . . . I was never like you and Mum and Dad. You guys _love_ gymnastics. It's what you were always meant to do.

"For me," he continued, smiling wanly. "I liked it and I was good at it, but it was just something I did for fun. I didn't love it. And when I couldn't do it with you and Mum and Dad and Daci . . . it wasn't even fun anymore."

Caitlin nodded her head, trying her best to understand what it was her brother was saying to her. He wasn't the only person to leave the sport like that, but somehow she'd kidded herself into believing that her brother would always have a place with her in gymnastics even as so many others left it behind to pursue other interests.

"I just feel like you're abandoning me, Sandu," she sobbed, crumbling a little under the weight of what that meant. "You're leaving me behind."

"Never, Cati," he promised, pulling his little sister into a tight hug. "I'll always be your big brother, Cati. You can't get rid of me that easily."

She laughed a little, relieved by his promise. "Now are you okay, or do I have to send Dad in here to talk to you?" he asked, his expression serious but his eyes full of mirth.

She raised her chin and set her lips firmly. "Of course I'm okay. I am the Junior National Champion, after all."

"Yes you are," Dru agreed. "And in three years time you're going to be the Olympic Champion and I'm gonna be the proudest big brother on the planet."

Come 2040 Caitlin Belov would be the National, World, and Olympic Gymnastics Champion, and Dru would be taking down every word, making sure that people knew just how brilliant his little sister was. 

~ FIN ~

Finally making sure that this version is up to date with the LJ version. This does it, I think. They now both have the exact same number of drabbles, so unless I've gone and loaded one here that isn't over there, I think they're even.

* * *

**Notes:**

****Cati: The nickname is based on the Romanian version of Caitlin (Cătălina) so it comes out sounding nothing like her actual name (more like Car-tee rather than Katie or Cat-tee). I don't really know why the one kid that was actually born in Romania is the one without the Romanian name.

**Translation:**

_soră_: sister  
_Haide, Cati_: Come on, Cati.


	18. A Champion in the Making 2028

**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

* * *

Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

* * *

**A Champion in the Making**

Kim Keeler felt a wave of nostalgia as she walked through the double doors of East Seattle Athletic (ESA), one of the most revered gymnastics training facilities in the country. It had been years since she'd been back in a gym like this – decades even – but it was like nothing had changed but the location. There was the same bustle of activity – movement everywhere with death defying tricks each way she looked.

And the thing that had changed the least – or maybe the most – was the man standing in the centre of it all, arms crossed stoically over his chest as he carefully observed one of his gymnasts running through her floor routine. There was a familiar intensity in his hardened expression, and he held his position so tightly that Kim wondered if he was even breathing. It was like stepping back in time, as though she'd stepped through a wormhole straight into The Rock nearly 20 years earlier. He barked out an order – some skill that needed to be repeated a dozen more times until it looked effortless and completely without fault – before turning away to see to something else.

And suddenly the Sasha Belov of two decades ago was gone. His expression changed completely, and it was like looking at a new Sasha that Kim had only seen glimpses of on a few occasions during his time at The Rock. But the expression was a familiar one now – as familiar to her as the intense scrutiny she'd seen earlier.

"Can I go on the beam now, _Tătic__?"_ her granddaughter asked him, the eagerness in her blue-green eyes obvious even from where Kim had stopped by the entrance to take in the heartwarming scene.

"I did promise you, didn't I?" he replied warmly, stooping to take her in his arms. She reflected his smile, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carried her over to where the beams were situated.

"I'm totally done here, Sasha, if you want this one," one of the girls on the beam offered, stepping off the apparatus without completing her proper dismount. Sasha gave her a sceptical look, but didn't argue while he had a rather impatient three year old in his arms.

"I want to see your routine in its entirety when I'm done, Courtney," he told the gymnast seriously, dismissing her for the time being. She nodded, happy to watch from the sidelines as Sasha and Daciana played on the apparatus.

All else seemed forgotten as Sasha swung his daughter in a wide and landed her on the beam. "An impressive quadruple twisting backwards Arabian standing mount from Daciana Belov," he said, doing his best impression of the now infamous American commentating trio. Daciana giggled happily through the action, her smile even brighter than before as she beamed up at her father.

She turned serious once in place, seeming so much like Payson did when she was doing her gymnastics. In some ways Daciana to Kim seemed the least like Payson of her three grandchildren – she was dark where Payson was fair, and bright and always smiling where Payson had been so serious even at a young age. And yet here, taking to the balance beam like a fish to water, there was no doubt on her parentage.

Sasha watched with a proud expression, hovering close by in case she lost her balance, but knowing she wouldn't need him. She was a natural, performing relatively simple moves, but doing each with as much grace and precision as someone who had been doing it for years. Sasha helped her where necessary, holding her waist through a forward walkover and then back the other way.

At the end he lifted her over his shoulder, flipping her upside down in a pseudo-somersault, which he declared to be a perfect Gainer salto with a full twist. Courtney, who still close by, applauded as she stuck the landing, and Daciana gave a practiced salute to the gymnast, blowing a kiss to her adoring public.

Kim joined in the applause without thinking, still standing in the entrance as she watched the whole routine. "That was incredible, Darcy," she called, her voice warm with the pride she felt any time she saw her grandchildren.

Daciana turned at her words, excitement lighting her eyes.

"Nana!" she greeted happily, racing towards Kim without a thought for any obstacles in her way. Luckily, Sasha was watching closely, and pulled her into his arms before a near collision could take place between Daciana and one of the gymnasts racing down the vault runway obstructing Daciana's direct path to her grandmother. The vaulting gymnast was so focused on the task at hand that he hadn't even noticed the three year old almost running into his path.

"Now, Daci," Sasha began in an admonishing tone. "What have I told you about crossing the mats?"

Daciana looked terribly contrite, her big green eyes blinking rapidly as she looked up at Sasha with a sorrowful pout, "Îmi pare rău, tată."

"I know you are, Munchkin," Sasha replied, looking sorry for being so grumpy with her. "I just don't want to see you get hurt, _puiule_."

She nodded as he shifted her in his arms, situating her on his hip so she could rest her head against his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her hair, which seemed to turn darker by the day, before taking the long way around the vault to meet Kim at the door.

"Does Payson know that you're already indoctrinating her baby into the world of gymnastics?" Kim asked, only half-teasing as she sent her son-in-law a dubious look.

Sasha shook his head, letting out a laugh as he handed over the little girl in question to her grandmother. "It's not indoctrination," he protested. "We were just playing. Weren't we, Daci?"

Daciana nodded her affirmation, smiling brightly at Kim. "_Tătic_ and I play gymnastics all the time," she assured her grandmother, which really did nothing to assuage her father's guilt.

Kim sent Sasha another knowing look. "We'll see you later," she said eventually seeing as Sasha refused to crumble under her scrutiny. "Payson said not to stay too late – she's doing stuffed peppers for dinner."

"I'll be another hour, tops," Sasha promised, giving his daughter a quick kiss to her forehead before bidding them farewell.

And then he was back to the man she'd seen earlier – stoic, unerring, intense. But she could see, just beneath the surface, the man that he'd become– husband, father, and friend – and she couldn't help but think of what a loss it would have been if Sasha Belov hadn't walked into The Rock twenty years ago.

Kim smiled warmly down at her grand daughter, the youngest of three, and ran a hand against her fine brown hair. Curiosity getting the better of her, she felt compelled to ask:

"So what do you and your daddy do when you 'play gymnastics'?"

~ FIN ~

Translation:

**_Tătic_**: Daddy  
_**Îmi pare rău, tată**_: I'm sorry, Dad  
_**puiule**: _cub

.


	19. Fun and Games May 2016

**Sixteen-by-Eight Feet**

Disclaimer: I do not own MIOBI.

I seem to be on a bit of a roll here. There was a request for more Payson/Sasha in these drabbles, so this time we're going backwards in time to 2016.

* * *

Summary: "So good in fact we're planning on eloping. I will then move into the airstream, and if it is a boy we shall name him Sasha Junior," was her sarcastic reply. Who would have known that those words would come back to haunt her? Payson/Sasha drabble.

* * *

**Fun and Games**

At times like this Sasha wondered what exactly had possessed him to buy the Keelers Monopoly for Christmas. It has seemed like a good enough gift at the time – something for his notoriously-hard-to-buy-for-soon-to-be-father-in-law that had a bit more thought to it than tried and tested sports memorabilia (he should have really just gone with his first instinct and gotten the Minnesota Wild hockey shirt instead of trying to be inventive). What he hadn't seemed to account for was just how competitive Payson could be, even it when it came to something as trivial as Monopoly.

And, okay, maybe it was a little bit his own fault for goading her, but Payson was too fun to tease. The frustrated pinch between her eyebrows and the perpetual pout she wore once her bank balance started depleting almost made up for the hell he knew he'd be in for later that night – a night he'd more than likely be spending on the couch by the looks that Payson was giving him.

"Give it to me," Payson demanded, hand outstretched and eyes narrowed.

He raised a sceptical eyebrow in return, his expression clearly saying that he wasn't about to cave. Her demand turned to petulance as she scooted closer, practically whining as she reached for the electronic banking device.

But Sasha was faster, snatching it before she could get a good grasp on it and raising it above his head and out of her reach. She half clamoured into his lap, using him for leverage as she tried to get a hold of the thing.

"Sasha," she complained as her fingers almost brushed against the e-bank. Unmoved, he just leaned back, holding it further away from her with the ease of long limbs and wrapping an arm around her waist to stop her from making any progress.

"Just give me your card, Pay, and I'll be happy to do it for you," he replied, more smug than it was safe to be, and laughing as she glared in reply.

"No, you'll cheat," she said petulantly, sitting pointedly back on her feet and crossing her arms over her chest. It was a very childish response, but one that Sasha had the unmatched ability to engender in the twenty-three year old young woman, who had often been accused of being too serious.

"_I'll_ cheat," Sasha scoffed, raising an eyebrow at her incredulously.

"Yes," Payson replied sourly.

"Sasha," she tried again, changing her tactics. Her tone was softer now, and she looked up at him with a hurt expression, eyes blinking rapidly. "Don't you trust me?" she asked in a small voice.

The smug smile he'd been wearing earlier softened to one of gentle adoration, and he bent his head to brush his lips against hers. "With my whole heart, _dragă_," he told her in a reverent tone, kissing her once more to seal his vow.

He continued a moment later, his expression knowing, but playful. "But not when it comes to Monopoly," he told her.

With an even sulkier pout and a look that assured him that he was going to have to get used to the couch for more than just the night, she shifted back to her original spot. She made no movement towards her game card, simply content to glare at him from a distance.

"Hand it over, Pay," Sasha said, holding out his hand once again. His voice was a self-mocking parody of his coaching voice, and enough to make her crack a small smile despite being thoroughly put out by the whole exchange. She handed it over with complete reluctance, watching him the whole time like she expected him to pull some trick if she took her eyes off of him for even a second.

"See, Pay. One hundred thousand dollars," he said as he keyed the amount into the e-bank and showed it to her to confirm it was the correct amount – the modern equivalent of ten dollars.

"I still reckon you bribed the judges," she groused as she was handed back her precious Monopoly credit card.

Sasha let out a distraught gasp. "Are you saying I'm not pretty enough to win a beauty contest on my own merit?" Sasha teased her with mock affront.

"Yes," she deadpanned back, her expression deadly serious.

She gave him one last narrowed look before scooping up the dice in her hands, leaning against his side as she took her turn. The dice landed consecutively – a two and then a six – and then Becca moved the little Scotty dog across the board.

Sasha smirked, banking device in hand. "Times Square with one house – that'll be $2 million, _dragă_," he grinned.

Eyes narrowed she responded. "Give me the bank."

~ FIN ~

Translation:

**_Draga:_ **Sweetheart, Darling

Note:  
They're playing the Here&Now Edition, so all the original game values are multiplied by 10,000 - $10 thus becomes $100,000 and $200 for rent on Mayfair/Boardwalk (now Times Square) becomes $2,000,000.


End file.
